Teacher's Pet
by magicfingerrs
Summary: Erik is a middle aged professor bored with his marriage. Christine is his childish, sex-obsessed student looking for some extra-credit. A mess involving everyone around them ensues. Minor, AU, Modern day, Explicit sex
1. Extra Credit

She looked upset; he could see the disappointment clearly in her chewing her bottom lip, furrowing her brow, and blinking profusely. He would have been upset too, with a grade like the one he had given her.

"Class dismissed, everyone," he called, briefly looking away from the girl in the front row. "Please don't be late next class, it reeeally starts to grate my nerves..."

A jock walked by him and grinned. "See ya later, Professor," he said as he punched his shoulder. Erik winced and smiled awkwardly.

"Come on, Teach, don't be such a pussy!" the jock chortled, thumping Erik's back.

Erik laughed weakly and wriggled out of his grasp. "Study, Raoul, please, study!" he called as the jock left with his friends. He shook his head and turned to go into his office, but stopped when he looked in the front row.

Christine was still there, with her essay clutched in her hands. When she saw him looking at her, she smiled brightly and sprung up to stand in front of him.

"Hello there, Christine," he said pleasantly, taking a swig of coffee from the mug on his desk.

She smiled demurely, but quickly looked upset again. "It's about my essay, Professor..." she murmured. Erik shrugged apologetically. "Didn't do so well, hmm, Christine?" he said gently. "How may I help you?"

"Well," she began slowly, biting her lip and fluttering her eyelids. "I was actually wondering how I could help you." She took a step closer and gently touched his tie. "I know I bombed this essay, Professor," she whispered, looking up at him with impossibly wide eyes, "but I was hoping I could make it up to you, somehow... maybe with some extra credit?" she finished anxiously, stepping closer still.

He cleared his throat. "Extra credit?" he repeated uncomfortable. "Christine, I told everyone at the beginning of the year that I don't do extra credit... how about I give you another chance, mm?" he smiled benevolently, assured once more. "I hardly ever do this, but I think you're a smart girl, and I'll let you rewrite it for just a few points off. Can't tell anyone, though, it has to be our little secret, ok?"

"I was thinking of another sort of extra credit," she whispered, gently taking his hand and bringing it to her breast. "It could be our little secret, too."

"Whoooa..." Erik said, moving his hands to her shoulders and gently pushing her away. "I, uh," he laughed awkwardly, "I'm flattered that you're so willing to, ah, work for a better grade, Christine, but I don't think-"

Christine stepped closer again and starting tracing patterns on his shirt. "Don't think what, Professor?" she asked innocently. Her hand slowly made its way down his chest and to his belt, and then below. She started tracing patterns again, and he quickly grabbed her wrist.

"Whew," he said quickly, clearing his throat and blinking profusely. "I think you ought to start heading home, Christine."

She batted her eyelids and pouted. "Why?" she demanded petulantly. "Don't you think I'm pretty, Professor?"

He cleared his throat. "That is precisely the problem," he replied hoarsely. "I think you're very pretty."

She giggled and bit her lip again. "Then let me work for extra credit. I'll do anything you want me to." She started touching him again, and reached up to kiss his chin. "You know, I've liked you since the beginning of the year," she murmured, unfastening his belt.

"I-um, oh, really?" Erik stammered, slowly stumbling backwards into his office, pushed by Christine's unrelenting fingers. She started unbuttoning his trousers, but he grabbed her wrist again. "Christine," he breathed. "I'm married; you're my student, I can't do this..."

She kissed him again, and started stroking him through the zipper. "Yes you can... when was the last time you had sex with your wife?" As it registered in his mind that she asked him a question, she slowly began sliding down, taking his pants with her.

"Oh, God!" he exclaimed breathily, frantically passing a hand over his hair. "Weeks," he whispered. "Months." He felt her fishing around his boxers and pull out his dick. She giggled and looked at him quickly, then set to work kissing it from the tip to the base.

It felt so amazing, so foreign! The last time he recieved a blowjob had to be... college, thirty years ago! Becky never gave him oral sex, and never allowed him to go down on her either; the most creative sex they ever had was from behind, staying as quiet as possible so they wouldn't wake the kids.

He suddenly felt a jolt of vibration around his penis and made a choking sound. When he looked down, he realized that she was trying to say something, even as her head kept bobbing back and forth on his dick.

"Don't tell me, don't tell me," he murmured, gently resting his hands on her head. "Just keep doing that..." He felt another jolt and realized she was giggling. When he looked down, she gave him a thumbs up sign, and despite himself, he laughed and returned the gesture. "Yesss...very good."

She did amazing things- somehow, squeezed him between her teeth and her cheek, simply sucked him like a lollipop, until her cheeks were concave and she looked like a fish, deepthroated him until every inch of his cock was stuffed in her mouth, and she couldn't help but gag... He idly wondered where she learned how to use her mouth so well.

It didn't take much longer after she pulled the teeth trick for him to come copiously, spilling it all into her mouth and down her throat. Belatedly, he realized with mortification, that she had to swallow every drop of it, lest it stain the dark blue carpet.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, blushing as she wiped off the corners of her mouth. "I didn't realize- I made you swallow-"

"It's ok, Professor," she said softly, gently cleaning him up and tucking him back into his trousers. "I don't mind; I like to swallow." She stood slowly and smiled at him. "Did you have a nice time?" she asked, as idly as if she were asking him about the latest movies that were showing.

Erik felt speechless; what was he supposed to say to the girl who had just put his penis in her mouth and sucked it until he came? Wordlessly, he nodded, staring at her with newfound wonder. "How old are you?" he whispered, gently touching her cheek.

"Seventeen," she giggled. "I'm the youngest in the class; I started school early."

"Seventeen?" he croaked. "You're just a baby... where did you learn all of that?"

"From my Professor," she laughed, planting a kiss on his lips. "He teaches me everything, and even gives me extra credit opportunities when I bomb his essays!"

He laughed and continued to shake his head. "You're only seventeen?" he repeated, still not grasping how young she really was.

"I'm only seventeen," she whispered. "Still jailbait."

"My daughter is older than you." Erik said, frowning slighty. "Oh my god, what am I doing?" he moaned, dropping his face in his hands. "I don't... this was a bad idea, Christine," he pleaded, turning to face her. She blinked. "I'm so sorry... I shouldn't have agreed, I'm your teacher!"

She kissed his cheek gently and smiled. "Don't worry about it," she coaxed soothingly. "It's out little secret, remember? I promise not to tell." She felt him try to pull away, but she tugged his shirt and kissed him again. He closed his eyes, but suddenly she pulled back. "Don't be late, Professor, or your wife will be mad." she giggled, waltzing through the door. She wiggled her fingers at him and blew him a kiss. "I'll see you next class..."

"I- I'll see you... later." he stammered uncertainly. He looked down at his wedding ring, and gulped.


	2. Persuasion

The next day Erik had class, Christine was late. Nearly thirty minutes of his lecture had gone by, when she flounced in the door beaming and preening and waving goodbye to a football player in the hall. "Sorry Professor," she giggled with a demure, flirty smile. He turned scarlet when he saw her, and quickly turned away. "Good morning, Christine," he replied awkwardly . "Just have a seat, dear."

She obliged, swinging her rump and hair coquettishly for everyone in the front of the class, including Erik. He couldn't resist, and discreetly gave her behind an appreciative stare as she walked by. Her jeans were impossibly skintight, he faintly wondered how on earth she got into them... "Ahem... as I was saying, class..." he continued, nervously clearing his throat.

The students exchanged shocked glances with each other as Erik continued his lecture. Had it been anyone else walking through his door thirty minutes late, they would've gotten at least a cynical joke made at their expense. He couldn't stand lateness!

"A-as I was saying... Comp. Lit is an upper level class. There are no more APs anymore, guys, this is the real deal. And your exam next month is the real deal. Now here are some sample questions you may find..." He proceeded to pass out study guides and began reviewing the material they had covered so far.

"Sir?" a young lady in the second row raised her hand as Erik took a break for a moment to gulp down some coffee.

"Yes, Ms. Daniels?" Erik asked.

"What sort of format will the test be in?" she asked, poised and ready with note paper and a pen.

"Mm!" Erik coughed and pointed at her gratefully. "Thank you, Ms. Daniels, that's a good question. This exam will not, I repeat, not be taken in class!" Some guys grinned, but some students looked nervous. What sort of catch could there be? "This is going to be a take home test. That means you have access to whatever resources you need, but it also means that I will be grading it more severely. Got it?"

"Aww, Professor, can't you just give it to us in class and grade it easy?" Raoul asked, scratching his head.

Erik smiled dryly and shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Raoul. You're big college boys now, can't you handle a take home essay?" he teased, addressing Raoul and his buddies. They grunted in unison and Erik went on. "So... it will be a take home exam, and it will include five essays-" He held his hands up to fend off the outraged cries of the students. "Of which, you will only be responsible for three. It's not that big of a deal, you know." he rolled his eyes and grabbed his coffee mug off the desk again. "I'm sure you've done tougher stuff."

"What else?" Melanie Daniels prompted.

Erik smiled and shrugged, setting his mug back down. "That's it, Ms. Daniels. It's not a big deal, really. No multiple choice, no true or false, none of that."

"But I like multiple choice!" someone whined from the back.

Erik laughed. "Because it's easier," he shot back. He made his way to his desk and sat down slowly. "Now, I will give you the rest of the class to work on your study guides and think about some things to write about."

"But you haven't given us the essays yet!" Melanie blurted in a panic, her pen still poised above her paper.

"I know. I just want you to think in general and formulate some broad ideas, ok?" Erik replied, frowning into his empty coffee mug. "Get to work."

"Why don't you just dismiss us?" Raoul suggested hopefully.

"Because I actually want you all to work, that's why." Erik replied. "Work, work, work, you only have half an hour left." After a moment, he stood up hesitantly, and made his way to the back of the room. When he reached the back row, and saw Christine doodling pictures in her notebook, he sighed. "Christine?" he asked softly, gently touching her shoulder. She looked up in surprise and grinned when she saw him. "You like it?" she asked happily holding up her picture.

Erik couldn't help laughing. It was a giant pink elephant tethered to a tree with red flowers in the branches. Next to the elephant a smiling girl with large brown curls was blowing a kiss and waving at a squirrel in the tree. It was so utterly random he couldn't help but find it rather charming.

"That's me." she pointed out unnecessarily, indicating the girl. "When I was little, I wanted an elephant so bad... I used to dream about it every night, but my parents never let me have one. So I made up an imaginary one, and that's her. Her name is Christine too."

Erik cleared his throat and looked at her curiously. "It's very nice, Christine. I- I, ah, actually wanted to talk to you about, um..." he trailed off nervously, and glanced around the room. Assured that no one was listening, he tried to continue. "Listen, about the other day, I-"

"Ooh." Christine giggled softly and suddenly, it seemed like her entire demeanor changed. Her hand travelled downwards, and Erik's eyes helplessly followed. When he saw her fingering the tiny thong strap above the waistband of her jeans, they nearly bulged out of his head. "Should I stay after class?" she whispered conspiratorially.

"N-no, Christine!" he replied in a slight panic. "That's why I wanted to talk to you. Would you mind coming to my office for a moment? So we can talk in private?"

She shrugged and stood up to follow him. As she walked down the middle aisle, she 'accidently' bumped her behind against Raoul's shoulder. When he looked up, she flashed him a shy, flirty smile over her shoulder, and tossed her hair. Raoul grinned, and looked at her and Erik questioningly.

"Nobody leave." Erik called, ushering Christine into his tiny office. "I'm watching you, I have hidden cameras throughout the room, I will know if you even think of leaving, got it?"

The class murmured their assent, and just as Erik was closing the door, someone from the back called out, "You don't really have hidden cameras in here, do you?"

Erik rolled his eyes and shut the door. When he turned around, Christine had already slipped off her shoes, and was in the process of pulling off her t-shirt. "Christine!" he hissed, hastily locking the door behind him. "What are you doing?"

She looked up with wide eyes. "I'm just taking my clothes off," she replied innocently. "Aren't we going to do it?"

He passed a hand over his face anxiously. "No, Christine. This is what I wanted to talk to you about. Last class, I made a terrible mistake in letting you... do what you did in exchange for a good grade." he motioned to the small couch beside the door and sat down beside her. "I took advantage of my position of authority, and your trust, and my behavior was... reprehensible."

Christine wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar word. Erik ignored her and went on. "So I've been thinking... and I think it would be best if you transferred out of this class."

Slowly, a frown began to form on Christine's face. She bit her lip uncertainly, and looked up at him through long dark lashes. God, she was beautiful. "You... don't want me in your class anymore?" she asked in a wavery voice.

"No, it's not that, it's just-"

"You don't like me anymore?" she sniffled, blinking her eyes furiously.

"Of course I like you dear, I'm just afraid that I may like you too much, and it's not right for me to..." Christine suddenly sat astride him, pressing her lips against his. She tousled his hair and loosened his tie; all she had heard was that he still liked her.

"...put you in that position." he finished hoarsely. "Christine, please, this isn't right, we can't-"

"Professor," she cooed, pulling her lips away from his for a moment. She trailed her finger across his mask and smiled devilishly. "You like me, right? You think I'm pretty?"

He nodded helplessly.

"And I make you feel nice. You make me feel nice too, and I get good grades. So what's wrong? I get good grades, you get good sex. Nobody looses..." she purred, kissing his neck seductively.

"I-I guess you're right," he breathed against her collar bone.

"Good. Now sit back and relax. I've got some work to do." she smiled as her head descended into his lap. He groaned.


	3. Blast From the Past

Erik discreetly adjusted his tie and ushered Christine out of his office. Christine not so discreetly wiped her mouth and fixed her bra. He winced nervously, but thankfully, his class had long been dismissed. Suddenly, a large wave of guilt washed over him, and he sat down slowly and unsteadily at his class desk. His wedding band burned his finger; he glared at it, as though it was to blame for his foolish disregard of his wedding vows. Perhaps it would be better if he took it off for a few minutes, he thought uncertainly. But it was useless; the ring might as well have been bonded to his skin- he couldn't even remember the last time he had taken it off.

"Pro-fes-sooooor," Christine sang as she sauntered back down the aisle with her empty book-bag and purse. She stopped at his desk and batted her eyelids. "What's our homework?"

Erik groaned and put his face in his hands. "Just- just don't worry about it, Christine. Don't worry about that quiz next class either, I don't think it's a good..." he trailed off guiltily. "My wife is coming home tonight," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than to her. "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

"Your wife?" Christine asked curiously, gently setting her rump down on the edge of his desk.

"Yes, my wife. I'm married, you know," he said dryly, holding up his ring finger.

"What's her name?" Christine asked, plucking a pen out of his breast pocket. She clicked it experimentally a few times, then slapped it on the desk and looked around for something else to play with. Boring.

"Rebecca- Becky," he replied. He reclined in his chair and covered his eyes with his hands. "I've never cheated on Becky before," he whispered. "Ever."

"How long have you been married?" Christine wondered, leaning forward and examining his mask with her eyeballs. He frowned and leaned back nervously. She thrust her hand forward to touch it, to take it, but he quickly grabbed her wrist and gently set it down, shaking his head. She pouted and tried again, and this time succeeded in curiously tapping it with her fingernails. He shook his head again, and this time she obliged.

"Twenty six years." Erik sighed.

She made a funny face and he frowned defensively. "What? What's wrong?"

"How **old **are you?" she asked with a wrinkled nose.

"I'm old. Too old for you." he replied shortly. "Don't you have a class to go to, dear?" He honestly liked her, but every moment more they spent together added the enormous guilt threatening to overwhelm him, and wasn't sure he could handle is much longer.

She pouted again and this time grabbed his left hand. "Nooo," she replied. "Not really..." She tapped his wedding band, and without warning, attempted to yank it off. "Ow!" Erik exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

She ignored him and put his finger in her mouth with a look of determined concentration on her face. Her teeth closed around the ring, and suddenly, she tugged with all of her might, and the ring slid straight off of his finger, across her tongue, and down, down, down...

"Christine!" Erik cried, jumping up as she began choking. She grabbed her throat in a panic and attempted to cough it out. It was all in vain, she realized, as she began to tun blue... He came behind her and frantically began performing the Heimlich Maneuver; within seconds, the ring was coughed across the room and under a desk.

"Whew..." Christine sighed dizzily, pressing the back of her hand against her forehead. Erik supported her gently, and sat her back on his desk. "Here," he sighed, handing her his water bottle. "Drink some water." She obliged silently and stared up at him with wide eyes. She suddenly looked very childish to him; he was reminded of when his daughter was a baby, and she would stare at him constantly over her bottle. It was rather unsettling.

Still silent, she gently took his ringless hand into her lap, reached into her backpack and pulled out a glittery purple gel pen. He frowned and was about to pull away, but she held on tightly and slowly drew a little circle around his bare left ring finger.

"There," she smiled. Her voice was hoarse. "Now you're married to me."

"Erik Destler?" a voice from the doorway inquired. Erik yanked his hand away from Christine and clasped them both behind his back nervously. Christine stood up quickly and glanced at the door curiously. A tall, dark, lanky man entered the room cautiously. Christine blinked blankly and stared at the intruder. Erik's visible skin paled and his jaw dropped.

"Nadir?" he asked in disbelief.

"In the flesh, baby," the dark man replied with an easygoing grin. "It's been a long time."

"Y-yes, it has..." Erik replied nervously, glancing at Christine. She was gathering her things together hurriedly. "Bye Professor," she whispered, waving at him quickly and skipping out the door. Nadir raised his eyebrow slightly, and bent to pick up something from the floor. "Lose your ring?" he inquired, slowly walking towards Erik.

"N-no! I mean, well, yes, it came off," Erik stammered, extending his hand. Nadir looked at him like he was nuts, but shrugged it off and dropped the ring in his hand. "How's Becky?" he asked casually.

"She's fine," Erik replied guardedly, walking around his desk and picking up his briefcase. "Would you mind telling me why you're here?"

"I just wanted to visit an old friend," Nadir smiled charmingly. Erik frowned over the glasses he had just slipped on. "Right. And I'm not a young lady, so the smile won't work on me. You haven't changed, have you? Same everything, same easy-breasy nothing bothers me attitude," He gave him another once over and scoffed. "Same clothes."

"Hey, what's wrong with my clothes?" Nadir asked defensively, smoothing out his goatee.

Erik shrugged carelessly and pretended to concentrate on the stack of papers he pulled out for grading. "It's a little Kerouac, don't you think? Ginsberg's been dead for ten years."

"Yeah, well, when are you gonna lose those fucking tortoise shell glasses, huh? You've had those things for twenty years Erik." Nadir replied easily, leaning against a front row table. Erik self consciously adjusted his glasses and frowned. "Why are you here, Nadir? I haven't seen you for ten, fifteen years. I have a life, I have tenure here, and a family. I don't want you mixed up in that."

"Well, for your information, I just came to inform you that starting next month, I'll be your colleague." Nadir replied quietly, examining his nails. "And we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

Erik's eyes widened, and he slapped his pen down. "W-what?" he hissed. "What are you talking about?"

"You're looking at Wesleyan's newest gender studies professor, baby," Nadir crooned with a laugh. "I applied over the summer, they accepted me with, ah, open arms, and here I am. Couldn't make it until the second semester, but the powers that be understood. Aren't you stoked, baby?"

"No, I'm not stoked, Nadir. Why would you apply here? I don't want you here!" Erik hissed frantically. "This is MY life, and MY college! I don't want you and everything you come with invading my space!"

"Hey, hey, cool it baby, don't be salty," Nadir replied with a slight frown. "I understand. The past is the past, and it has no place in the future. Don't worry, Daddy-o." He started to laugh. "You're still just as anal as you were twenty years ago. Let it go, pops. Be cool." He stood up and stretched his arms high above his head. "And speaking of cool..." he grinned casually. "What's for dinner over at Chez Deslter, huh?"

"You're not invited." Erik said shortly.

"But I want to see Becky!" Nadir protested. "And Alex, how old is she now, fifteen, sixteen...?"

"Twenty five. She moved out seven years ago; she lives in New York now, with some loser boyfriend..." Erik muttered, grudgingly scratching a giant red F on the top of a student's paper. Nadir winced and scratched his head. "If I recall your temperament correctly," he mused, "I assume this isn't the first, ah, 'loser' boyfriend she's had, am I right?"

"She just has awful taste, I don't understand it," Erik replied. He sounded baffled. "Nobody she brings home is good enough."

Nadir nodded. "Right. Of course not. Your standards are definitely not to high."

"Of course not." Erik scoffed. "You should speak to Becky, maybe she would listen to you. Says I'm 'unrealistic'..."

"Yeah, yeah I should," Nadir grinned. "How about tonight?"

Erik frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine." he snapped. "But don't expect this every night, do you understand?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah, course not." Nadir replied. He wagged his eyebrow at Erik playfully. "So, where'd your goatee go?"


	4. Lunch?

"Christine! Wait, Christine!" Raoul called, jogging to catch up with her. She spun around and her face broke into a wide smile when she saw him. "Hi Raoul!" she said cheerfully. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was waiting for you," he smiled sheepishly. He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I almost thought I missed you, you were in there for so long. What did Destler want?"

"Um," she bit her lip and tried not to giggle. "He was giving me an extra credit assignment."

"Oh, really? Are- are you not doing well in his class?" Raoul asked uncertainly.

She hugged her bag to her chest and shrugged with a shy smile. "It's kinda hard."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But he's a cool guy, you know?" Christine nodded vigorously and blinked her large eyes flirtatiously. Raoul coughed and blushed slightly. She was so pretty...! "So um, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to, um, maybe, like, do something after class or something." he stammered nervously, lost in her big... beautiful... blue... blinking... eyes. "If you wanted, I mean. Maybe we could get lunch or something. Or brunch, or d-dinner, you know, whatever-"

"Raoul," she giggled, rising up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek gently.

He blushed and grinned. "You know, your eyes are really pretty." he sighed. Suddenly, the door behind them opened and the tall dark man Christine saw earlier stepped out, followed by Erik. They were bickering and neither of them seemed to notice Raoul and Christine.

"No, I told you. Just because Becky's not coming home tonight doesn't mean I can just go anywhere," Erik muttered, locking his door. "I have to pick up my son from daycare, feed the dog, make dinner, do laundry," he sighed. "Vacuum, send Alex money... You'll have to go out and party by yourself." he finished shortly, disapproval evident in his voice.

"When did you become such a fucking drag?" Nadir complained. "Don't you want to collar some pretty ladies?"

"I'm married!" Erik hissed. He turned and stared in surprise at Christine and Raoul. "Oh, hello, there Raoul," he stammered, blushing slightly. "Christine," he nodded cautiously.

Raoul grinned and saluted. "Yo, Professor. Go get wasted, sir, it's fun, trust me." Christine giggled and tickled her fingers along Raoul's back while batting her eyes at Erik. "Oh yes," she agreed with a sweet, delicate laugh. "Lot's of fun!"

Erik laughed awkwardly. "What would you know about it? You're only seventeen, Christine." Despite his frail attempt to be cool, he sounded like an overprotective father.

"So? I'm not so innocent," she purred flirtatiously. Erik gulped, and swore he felt his face get even warmer. "Well, I think I'll leave the partying to you kids," he said, picking up his briefcase and adjusting his glasses. "My wife's flight was cancelled, and I really have to pick up my son. Goodnight you two. Don't get into too much trouble, Raoul-" he stared at him over his tortoise shell glasses and pointed accusingly. "She's only seventeen. Be good."

Raoul grinned and turned slightly pink. "Yes, sir. My dad wants to go golfing!"

˙Erik nodded skittishly and waved as he walked away. "Yes, yes, I'll call him!" And then he was gone, out the door faster than a high school boy's orgasm. "Oh, wait, Professor!" Christine called suddenly. She started to run after him, and Raoul frowned. "What is it?" he called, starting to follow her.

"Oh, I just have to tell him something- I forgot- don't worry, I'll be right back!" she said, running through the door.

Raoul shrugged and pulled out his phone. He glanced up at Nadir for a second, and did a double take. "Dude!" he gasped in shock. "Is that- is that a-"

"Just something to calm me down," Nadir purred, taking another hit on the joint. He glanced at Raoul over his round tinted glasses. "Want some?"

"Uh, y-yeah, sure man, thanks," Raoul replied in bafflement, taking the joint. "Should we- I mean, maybe we should step outside or something, I don't want the smoke detectors to go off," Raoul said nervously, glancing around the hallways and handing the pot back to Nadir.

Nadir nodded. "Yeah, yeah, cool, baby, step outside... a little fresh air always does me good."

"Er- yeah, yeah, me too." Raoul said, raising his eyebrow slightly. They slowly walked to the door Christine and Erik has just gone through minutes ago, and Raoul looked at Nadir curiously. "So, uh, are you a friend of Professor Destler's?" he asked.

Nadir smiled slyly at Raoul out of the corner of his eye. "You could say that," he replied, squinting slightly as they stepped into the bright sun. "Long time ago, daddy-o."

"Are you visiting then?" Raoul asked, accepting the offered joint and taking another hit. Christine was nowhere to be seen.

"Working," Nadir smiled easily and showed Raoul his University ID. "Gender studies, baby."

"W-wait, you're a professor?" Raoul asked in shock. He looked at the joint he was holding in horror.

"Yep. No, no, take another hit, baby, you need to relax," Nadir said as Raoul awkwardly tried to hand him the joint again. He stroked his goatee thoughtfully. "Your pops knows Destler?"

"Uh, yeah, they golf together sometimes," Raoul replied, gazing at the empty lawn in front of him. Thank God there was no one around. He handed Nadir the joint.

"Golfing," Nadir repeated with a faint smile on his face. He wrinkled his nose. "You golf?"

"Oh well, you know, sometimes, with my dad, I'll go..." Raoul replied self consciously. "D-do you?"

Nadir opened his mouth and blew out three perfect smoke rings. "Do I look like I golf, baby?" He cocked an eyebrow.

"Uh..." Raoul gave his goatee, black turtleneck, black jeans, and Birkenstocks a once over. "No, not really."

"No, not really," Nadir replied thoughtfully. He glanced down at the joint in his hand and took another hit. And they were silent. "Your girlfriend's back." he observed after a moment. He put out the joint and slipped it in his pocket. "I'll see you around, daddy-o. Keep golfing." And with that, he left Raoul and started making his way across the expansive lawn. Raoul frowned thoughtfully. What a strange man...

"Hi, Raoul!" Christine called, jogging to meet him. "I'm sorry about that! I had to ask Professor Destler a question, and then I couldn't find him, and then I did, and," she took a deep breath but Raoul shrugged. "Don't worry about it," he smiled. "Baby." Hm. It sounded odd on his tongue.

Christine giggled and gently touched his chest. "You're so funny! I like you."

Raoul laughed and blushed a little. "I like you too," he replied. "So do you wanna go and get something to eat?"

Her eyes lit up. "Do you have a car?" she asked as she batted her eyelashes. He nodded. "Yeah, it's right across the parking lot." He pointed. "Let's go."

"Ok!" she agreed, clapping her hands together in excitement. "I don't have a car. I'm not allowed to get my license."

"Really? Why not? You're eighteen, aren't you?" Raoul asked. They started walking, and Christine continued touching him. It was a little distracting. Gosh, she had pretty hair.

"No, I'm seventeen," she replied. "My birthday's this summer."

"You're not eighteen?" Raoul asked in surprise. "I didn't know that; I'm going to be twenty one this summer." He chuckled uneasily. "You're not jailbait or anything, right?"

Christine giggled. Gosh, she had a pretty laugh. "No, silly! At least I don't think so..." She batted her eyelashes again. They were almost at the car; Raoul could see it from where they were standing. She licked her lips and Raoul froze momentarily. She was going to see it, in the car. He felt like a thirteen year old. Desperately, he willed it to go down... please, please, don't let me make this kind of impression on her...

"Which one is it?" she called, skipping ahead of him. Gosh, she had a nice butt... He cleared his throat and pointed. "It's ah, the red one, there." She skipped to it. When she skipped, her butt wiggled back and forth, back and forth... Raoul looked down and cursed his dick.

He unlocked the doors and they both sat down in the car. Christine oohed and ahhed over everything, touching the steering wheel and stroking the radio... and then her eyes passed over his lap. Raoul groaned inwardly. He opened his mouth, prepared to apologize, but she suddenly looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Do you want me to suck it?" she bit her lip and tilted her head sweetly.

Raoul's eyes widened in shock and his face burned. "I- I no, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's ok," she smiled gently and kissed his cheek. "I don't mind."

"Well, if you want to..." Raoul replied uncertainly. She nodded and pulled back her hair. He unzipped his pants slowly and sat back. "You don't have to," he said with a hint of concern in his voice. "I wasn't planning on asking you."

She lowered her mouth to his lap and began licking the head. "I want to," she replied, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. "I like you."

"Well, I like you too," Raoul gasped, resting his hands on her head. "I'd still like... to take you out... oh, God," he bit his lip and tightened his buttocks; she was good. "To eat sometime. If you still want to."

She looked up for a moment and smiled uncertainly. "Really?" Her hand continued to work in the absence of her mouth. Raoul winced and nodded eagerly. "Yeah, definitely."

"Ok." She went back down. As her head gently bobbed up and down on his shaft, he became momentarily distracted by her ass... going up and down in time with her head. Her pants were so tight... how in the world did she get into them?

"Fuck, you have a nice ass," Raoul swore, leaning his head back against the seat. "What do you do?"

She lifted her head, but she had been deep-throating him, and he certainly didn't want her to stop. "What do you mean?" she asked clumsily, wiping her mouth a little. Her lips were shiny and swollen, and they reminded him of...

"Never-mind," he groaned. "You have a tight mouth, Chrissy... Can I call you Chrissy?"

She nodded and impaled her mouth on him again. He could hear her gagging softly; it was a very erotic sound. He was going to come any minute now... She sensed it, and started sucking him faster. "Oh, fuck!" he swore. "Fuuuuuuuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck fu- ahhh..." Christine was gagging again. He came a lot; his jizz was thick and sticky, and she felt it on her cheek.

"Holy shit," Raoul muttered. His eyes were closed and his head was thrown back against the seat. "Holy shit. Christine... Chrissy. He opened his eyes and laughed slightly. "I had no idea."

She smiled and crawled into his lap. "No idea about what?" she giggled, nuzzling her face into his neck. This was different; he wasn't used to a girl just blowing him in the front seat one minute and cuddling with him the next. "No idea you were such a...

"Naughty girl?" she purred. He nodded, and she laughed.


	5. Family Matters

"Erik, would you pass me the coconut rice please?" Becky asked at the dinner table. She pried a spoon from Zack and wiped his mouth with her napkin. "No messes, Zack," she scolded gently. "Now eat your jerk chicken."

Erik obliged and nervously set down his fork. "Um, Becky," he began hoarsely. She was busy trying to feed Zack a spoonful of Callaloo and didn't hear him. "Becky-" he tried again. "I'm going to start staying after school a few days a week, just for a couple of hours. Is that alright with you?"

She turned and gave him a puzzled frown. "Sure honey," she replied. "For what?"

"Well, one of my students isn't doing so well, and I, well, I offered to stay and give her some extra help." he replied. He anxiously stuffed a mouthful of jerk chicken in his mouth and smiled uncomfortably. Becky smiled mischievously and took a sip of her ginger beer. "A she?" she asked. "Oh really?"

Erik frowned and set his fork down. "Yes, she's failing. I thought I would give her some tips, maybe read some chapters with her, you know, to show her what to look for when she's reading, and show her a sample essay. Her writing is terrible."

"What's her name?"

"Daae, Christine Daae." Erik replied uneasily. He eyed Becky out of the corner of his eye, searching for some small sign that **she knew, she knew! **but there was none. She just tilted her head quizzically and bit her lip. "Daae?" she repeated. "That name sounds so familiar. Do we know her family?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't think she's from around here." Erik said shortly. He took another bite of coconut rice and jerk chicken and glanced up at Zack. The toddler was covered in jerk sauce and little bits of rice, and was presently reaching his hand precariously close to Becky's ginger beer.

"Becky, get Zack!" he said in alarm, standing up slightly. She spun around and caught his little fist just in time before he knocked the glass over. "No, no, no, Mr. Zacky, what do you think you're doing?" she crooned, lifting him out of his high chair. She sat him on her lap and offered him another bite of Callaloo; he grimaced and shook his head. "No jerk, Mommy, no jerk!" he insisted. "Yucky."

Erik snickered and Becky shot him a dirty look. "What's wrong, Zack?" she asked, eating some of the Callaloo herself. "Look, Mommy likes it, see? And Daddy likes it too, right Daddy?" she narrowed her eyes in Erik's direction and pinched his thigh under the table.

"Ow!" he jumped slightly and reluctantly ate some of his Callaloo. "Oh... oh yes, Zack. Mmm. It is very... yummy." he said flatly. "Maybe he just doesn't like Caribbean cuisine!" he hissed at Becky.

"Nonsense." she snapped back. "His sister loves it, why wouldn't he? This is good food!"

Erik slumped in his chair and leaned his elbows on the table. "When is Alex coming to visit us again, anyway? Isn't it time she took a break from that- bum?" he muttered. He dipped his spoon in and out of the Callaloo and fixed it with an unsavory glare. "He's not even attractive, I don't know what she sees in him..."

"That's exactly why she doesn't come as often," Becky said gently, putting Zack back in his high chair and taking Erik's food. He frowned petulantly and crossed his arms over his chest. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

"Erik, Alex loves Jude." Becky sighed. "She loves you too, but she's not going to come here without him, and he's not going to want to come here if he knows you don't like him. What have you got against the guy, hmm? He's a nice kid, Erik. Just give him a chance."

Erik groaned and rested his good cheek on the table. "He's not good enough for her." he insisted.

"Nobody's ever going to be good enough, she's our baby," Becky agreed. She glanced over and rolled her eyes at his pathetic slumped form. "But you're going to have to accept the fact that she's not a virgin anymore, sweetheart."

Erik's eyes bulged out of his head, and he gulped. "Becky!" he cried in distress. "**Please**! It's our daughter you're talking about! I don't want to think about... oh God." He dropped his head to the table again.

"She's not a little girl anymore, Erik, she's twenty-five," Becky said reasonably. "You know, this isn't exactly a new development. She's been on birth control since she was fifteen." She patted his head as she walked by with a spray bottle of Lysol. "This table is disgusting," she muttered under her breath. "Zack makes such a mess..."

Erik's jaw dropped. "Becky!" he exclaimed. "What do you mean, she's been on birth control since she was fifteen? Isn't that **illegal**?"

"Of course not, Erik," Becky replied. "She just asked me one day, she told me she was having sex and that she would feel more comfortable if she was using something more than condoms. You didn't know?"

"No, I didn't know!" he snapped. "What the hell was she doing having sex when she was fifteen? She's still a **baby**, she doesn't need to be having sex now!"

"Hmm. Well maybe this is why we didn't tell you." Becky mused, wiping a paper towel over the table surface. Zack started clapping and pointed at Erik. "Baby!" he exclaimed happily. "Baby, baby!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a broken voice. "Why didn't she tell me? My baby..." he moaned. "Do you really think she loves him, Becky?"

Becky shrugged and wiped her hands on her apron. "She moved to New York with him. She bought an apartment with him. She goes everywhere with him. If it's not love, he's definitely handing out something better than candy." She checked the oven and spun around with an excited clap. "Look, Zacky, Mommy's dessert is done!" she exclaimed in Zack's direction. The toddler saw his mother pointing at the oven in excitement, and a look of panic crossed his face. "No, Mommy!" he wailed. "No jerk, no jerk!"

"Zack!" she frowned in disappointment. "You really don't like my food that much?"

"I think Caribbean is too strong for him," Erik murmured, lifting his son out of the highchair. "Come on, Zacky, you want to go to bed?" He started rocking him gently and hummed in his ear a little. "No night night," Zack sniffled. "No." He leaned his cheek against his father's shoulder and started sucking his thumb.

"Yes, it is time to go to bed," Erik replied softly. "I'll be right back, I'm going to put him down," Erik whispered over his shoulder to Becky. She nodded and kissed Zack's head, then sadly faced her caramelized bananas in rum sauce. "Caribbean cuisine is good..." she muttered.

Several minutes later, Erik came back downstairs with a tired look on his face. "He is knocked out," he informed her, sitting down at the table. She served him a small plate of dessert, and sat down next to him. "Poor baby," she sighed. "I think daycare stresses him out."

Erik grinned and nodded. "He takes after me," he said proudly. "Daycare stresses me out too."

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of her bananas. "Whatever, Mr. Phantom. Go dig a hole and make it your home." she said dryly. He smiled and closed his eyes slightly when he tasted the rum sauce. "Mmm, Becky, this is delicious." he said. "What is it?"

"Caramelized bananas with rum sauce. I got the recipe at that stupid conference I went to a couple of weeks ago." she rolled her eyes. "I still can't believe they cancelled two of my flights."

He grunted noncommittally and took another bite. She sighed tiredly and followed suite. "So how's Nadir?" she asked after a moment. "Is he fitting in fine?"

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, I suppose he's fitting in," he said grudgingly. "He smokes pot in his classroom. In- his- classroom. Pot! Can you believe that?"

Becky laughed and shrugged. "He's a free spirit," she defended. "Don't you remember the days when you were like that, honey?"

He frowned and shook his head violently. "I most certainly do not." he replied tightly. "I don't believe I ever was like that."

Becky smiled knowingly. "Oh, I remember. Before Zack, before Alex... I remember."

Erik moaned and put his head in his hands. "Alex..." he sniffed. "My baby."

"You know, I'm supposed to be the one with the Empty Nest Syndrome, Erik." Becky said. "There's something wrong here. You're supposed to be glad that she's out of the house, living with a nice boy, with a nice job-"

"Nice boy! Nice job! You call a wooly mammoth who inks people up for a living a nice boy with a nice job? Pah!" Erik scoffed grumpily. "Alex was top of her class, she graduated from Columbia, for God's sake, what is she doing with that-"

"Jude is not a wooly mammoth, Erik." Becky said. "Just because he has a beard and owns- owns, not works at!- a tattoo parlor doesn't mean he's a bad match. Have you told Alex you think he looks like a wooly mammoth?"

Erik shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. Either way..."

"Either way, you some serious attachment issues which you need to resolve," Becky advised, taking his empty plate up to the sink. "Let's invite the two of them down for a long weekend, how about that, hmm? That sounds like a good idea. This way, you can bond with Alex and Jude! Why don't we have them up for Thanksgiving?"

Erik frowned and shrugged. "I guess." he sighed. After a moment he yawned, and suddenly, his guilt came back. "I think I'm going to head to sleep, Becky," he said. "I-I have a long day tomorrow..."

She waved over her shoulder and continued putting the dishes in the dish washer. "Goodnight honey!" she called. "Don't stay after too late tomorrow, I might get jealous of your students!"

Erik chuckled uneasily, and quickly walked away...


	6. Side of Guilt

"Excuse me?" the indignant student snapped. "Do you _know_ who my father is?"

Erik sighed and shrugged. "Enlighten me, please," he muttered. "But unless he can go back in time and pass your test for you, your grade is standing. I'm sorry." He closed his grade book wearily and craned his neck to speak to the class behind the irate student. "Class dismissed, everyone! Have a nice day." He called, rubbing his temples. "And unless there's anything else I can do for you, sir, I have a lot of work to do. If you'll excuse me..." He stood up with his grade book and made his way to his office.

"You won't get away with this. You can't _fail_ me, it was an unfair test!" the student snapped angrily, brandishing his pencil at Erik's retreating back.

Erik turned around. His expression was sour. "It was not an unfair test," he replied. "I've had seven perfect scores already, and so far, you're my only failing grade. Maybe instead of bitching at me, you should spend more time studying! Good-_bye_." He stomped into his office and slammed the door. He heard some curse words, and then silence.

God, he hated some of his math students. With a passion. They were all arrogant, over achieving, bastards... well, that wasn't completely true. Some of them were fine; some of them were enjoyable, even. But most of them were unpleasant. He preferred his Comp. Lit. kids so much better. They were younger, he supposed that was why; most of them were freshman and sophomores, except for Raoul... Erik smiled to himself and shook his head. Raoul was his lone junior, the oldest of his class.

And Christine was the youngest in the class... he thought faintly. His dick twitched and he glanced at the clock. It was half past four, she was probably done with all of her classes. She should be there any minute...

_Knock, knock, knock!_

"Pro-fes-sssor..." Purred a female voice from the door. Erik jumped, coughed, and adjusted his tie. "Yes?" he called. "Come in."

"Hiya!" Christine giggled bubbly and flirtatiously. Everything she did seemed to be flirtatious, he thought offhandedly. Even the way she blinked looked sexual. He coughed again and stood up. "Hello Christine," he smiled uncertainly. "How are you, dear?"

"I'm fiiiine," she replied in her odd, singsong-y voice. Her hands were clasped behind her back innocently, but there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. "How are _you_, sir?"

"I'm very well, thanks," he smiled back, and gestured to the small couch opposite his desk. "Sit down, please. Would you like anything to drink?"

She bit her lip. "Do you have apple juice?" she asked eagerly.

Erik frowned and tilted his head. "Er, no, sorry," he replied. "I'm afraid it's just coffee and tea. Oh, and water!" he added in response to her sad face. "I have water too, if... you'd like..." he trailed off when her face didn't get happier.

"No," she replied with a dramatic sigh. "That's ok. I don't like coffee or tea."

He felt torn when he returned to the couch with a cup of tea. "I'm sorry- if you'd like me to send out- to the mess hall, I mean- for some apple juice, I can..."

"No, that's ok, Professor!" she replied with a bright smile again. "I'm not even that thirsty."

They were silent for a moment, until Erik glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "You know, my daughter used to love apple juice." he said softly. "When she was a baby, that's all she would drink. Apple juice."

"What's her name?" Christine murmured, sliding closer to him. She gently took his tea, and set it on the floor.

"Alex," he breathed. "I-I've never done anything like this before," he said uncertainly as Christine loosened his tie. She kissed his chin and smiled. "Like what?" she giggled.

"You know, with a student- I've never done anything with a student. Even before I was married." he stammered, placing a hand on her hip to steady them. "I never crossed the line, ever."

She burst into laughter and slipped her hand inside of his shirt. "You are now!" she replied. She kissed the side of his mouth, and his eyes fluttered close. "Don't worry, it's ok," she assured him, pulling away and staring at him with large blue eyes. "You're not the only one who does it."

"What, this?" Erik replied. "Other professors?"

She nodded and pulled his shirt out of his pants. "Sure, plenty of them do it. Didn't you know that?"

"No, I didn't," he replied faintly. His hand was trembling uncontrollably on her hip. She took it and pressed her lips to the center of his palm.

"Hey!" he laughed. "Stop that!" She was sticking her tongue out and tickling him with it.

"Stop what?" she smiled. She leaned forward and pecked his nose sweetly. "Is Becky nice?" she asked curiously.

"What?" Erik asked sharply, jerking out of his aroused, dreamy state. "Why are you asking?" He frowned and Christine shrugged nonchalantly.

"I dunno, I was just wondering..." she hummed with a quick smile. "Come on, take off your clothes!" she insisted brightly.

Before he could obey, or even reply, however, they were interrupted by a shrill ringing. "Shit, that's my phone!" Erik gasped nervously. He frantically pushed Christine off his lap and dove for his desk with the urgency of a dying man. "Please, be quiet," he begged her, nervously passing a hand through his hair.

"Yes sir," she mumbled obediently. She picked up his tea from the floor and sniffed it curiously. Erik frowned impatiently and answered the phone.

"Becky?" he said breathlessly. "How are you, dear?"

"Hey baby!" Becky replied. "What's going on, are you still at school?"

"Ah, yes, yes I am, I'm staying with my s-student, remember? Tutoring, I'm ah, tutoring her." Behind his back, he could hear Christine giggling.

"Oh yeah, that's right. Well listen, don't work too hard, ok?" He could hear her smiling on the other end, and he once again asked himself why he was doing what he was. "And don't forget! Tonight we have dinner at the Farlows."

"Shi-_it_, that's tonight?" he moaned. "I completely forgot about that..."

She laughed. "I know, me too. But don't forget, it's at six and I need you to pick up a bottle of wine."

"Yes, yes, alright, I'll stop by the supermarket on the way there..." he mumbled, jotting down a reminder in his day planner. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Christine; she was still examining his tea. He rolled his eyes and coughed.

"No, not the supermarket!" Becky exclaimed. "Melanie already told me she's making lamb loin, and the supermarket doesn't have the right wine for that. I need you to stop by the ABC store and get a bottle from there."

"The ABC store, Becky?" Erik complained. "Do you know how expensive it is there?"

"But it's quality, Erik, it's better quality," Becky reminded him. "Come on, I'm picking up Zack."

"Oh that's right! Where's Zack going to be tonight?"

"Yes, I'm glad you remembered your first and only son," Becky said dryly. "I'm dropping him off at my mother's, she offered to watch him for the night."

"Your mother?" Erik gulped. "What about Jamie?"

"She's in Peru, on some missions trip, I don't know. I'm going to have to start looking for a new babysitter, I think she's thinking about joining the Peace Corps..." Becky sighed. "She helps humanity out enough by watching Zack, I don't know why she feels the need to go to another country."

"H-how old is Jamie now? Eighteen, nineteen?" Erik stammered, glancing at Christine. She was hesitantly sticking her tongue in the cup of tea. A second later, she screwed up her face and made a gagging sound. "Ew-w-w..." she muttered. "Gross."

"She's twenty two, Erik. She just graduated, remember?" Becky replied.

"Oh yes, yes, that's right..." Erik murmured. He was still staring at Christine. She looked up at him and smiled blankly. He smiled back awkwardly and she waved energetically. He waved weakly and raised his eyebrow at the odd girl. She blew him a kiss, and then-

"_Put that down!_" he mouthed frantically, fearing Becky would somehow see Christine lifting her polo and flashing him her tiny breasts and swollen nipples. She giggled wildly and covered her mouth to stifle the sound.

"Erik, are you listening?" Becky asked impatiently. "I said I have to go, will you get some chocolates with the wine?"

"Ch-chocolate, right, right, sure," he stammered. Christine had not obeyed his order to cover herself, and was currently tracing her pinkie finger around her areolas. Her belly button was pierced, he noticed. It looked cute.

"Ok, thanks. I'll see you later honey, I love you." Becky said.

"I love you too, darling," Erik said faintly. He snapped the cell phone shut with a trembling hand and closed his eyes momentarily. "Christine," he said weakly. "Why? Was that necessary?"

She shrugged and stared at him with those damn blue eyes. "I don't know, sir," she replied sweetly. "Are you mad at me?" She then proceeded to pull off her shirt completely. "Are you mad at me now?"

"Ch-Christine," Erik said hoarsely. "Please- don't- wh-why aren't you wearing a bra?" he demanded finally. "You're seventeen years old, you should be wearing a bra!"

She frowned and covered her breasts with her arms. "You don't want to see me?" she asked. "I thought you liked that," she murmured, glancing at him out the corner of her eye.

"Ok, listen. If I'm on the phone with Becky, you are not to strip, or pull any stunt like the one you just did. Understood?" Erik said sternly. He was her teacher, after all; and teachers were _supposed_ to discipline their students.

"Yes, sir." Christine sat up straight.

"If you do…" he continued; she bit her lip in anticipation. He raised his eyebrow. "I uh, will be- very, very angry!" He frowned over his glasses for good measure and gave her his best Daddy stare. "Do you understand?"

She nodded dumbly and blinked submissively.

"I said, do you understand?" Erik repeated, louder.

She jumped slightly and nodded again. "Yes sir." She said. "I'm sorry, Professor; are you mad at me?" She curled her feet under her bottom and covered her breasts even more; it looked like she was trying to curl into a ball. Her lower lip started wobbling, and her eyes were damp. "Please don't be _mad_ at me…"

"No, no, dear, I'm not mad at you," Erik reassured her. He scratched his head and took a step forward uncertainly. "Now, please, Christine- don't cry, I'm not mad at you," he insisted. She sniffled and covered her face with her hands. "You're angry at me!" she whined tearfully. "You're shouting at me!"

"Christine!" Erik said in disbelief. "I'm not shouting, please, sweetheart, I'm not mad at you, I promise. I'm sorry, please don't cry," he knelt down next to her and gently pulled her chin up. "I'm not mad," he reassured her with a gentle smile. "Don't cry, hmm? Here, look, I have some candy, would you like some?" He held out a Hershey kiss and she blinked through her fingers.

"Candy?" she murmured. She plucked the chocolate from his fingers and unwrapped it. "I love candy."

"There you go," Erik smiled. "I told you I wasn't mad, didn't I?"

"You promise?" she asked, kissing his cheek shyly. He blushed lightly and touched her naked back. "I promise, dear."

"Pinky promise?" she mumbled into his neck. Her breath tickled his skin, and he suddenly realized her naked breasts were pressing against his shirt. And if he concentrated, he could feel her nipples through the fabric…

"Yes," he agreed hoarsely. "I pinky promise."

"Kiss me?" she asked innocently. And when he saw those eyes, he couldn't refuse…

"Damn!" Erik swore, slamming the car door. He glanced at his watch; six fifteen. Becky was going to kill him for being late! At least he brought the wine, he thought dryly…

He jogged up the driveway quickly and rang the doorbell. Becky's car was already in the driveway, as well as Dave and Melanie's. They were all probably waiting on him, he sighed. He pressed the doorbell, and quickly heard footsteps.

"There he is!" A voice called from inside. The door opened and Melanie Farlow beamed at him from the hallway. "Hello there, stranger!" she greeted him happily. "Come in, come in, it's so nippy outside!" Erik allowed himself to be ushered in and smiled apologetically at her. "I'm sorry for being late Melanie, traffic was hell, and school just gets crazy-"

Melanie laughed and kissed his cheek. "Don't worry about it, we're just having some cheese and crackers in the sitting room; come on in, Becky's already in here with Dave." She led him into the sitting room and touched his back. "May I take your coat, Erik?" she asked.

"Oh yes, thank you," Erik replied gratefully. He shrugged out of it and saw Becky, who was eyeing him over her glasses. Her expression was stern, but he saw a little half smile on her face, and grinned back sheepishly. "Hello darling," he said.

"You're late!" she said, but her smile had grown, and she moved over to allow him room on the couch. Dave looked up and grinned at Erik. "Hey there, cowboy, glad you could make it!" he chuckled.

"Sorry for being late everyone," Erik apologized again. "I just got so… caught up in school, and I lost track of the time…" he unconsciously rubbed the traces of bubblegum lip gloss from his neck and jaw line and coughed nervously.

"Yeah, I know how it is, man," Dave said sympathetically. "The kids are crazy, they wear you out worse than your own!"

Erik nodded in agreement and suddenly stood up. "The wine!" he remembered. "I have the wine!"

Melanie smiled as she walked back into the sitting room and clapped her hands together. "Oh good, give it to me so I can put it on some ice," she said. He did, and she took it away to the kitchen. Erik resumed his seat.

"So, Erik," Dave said. "Becky tells me you're tutoring kids after class now, is that right?"

Erik's face flushed and he felt prickly beads of sweat break out in the small of his back. "Oh y-yes, that's right, actually, that's why I was late tonight," he replied uneasily.

"So are you tutoring… what, your math kids?" Dave asked.

"Well no, actually, this one was one of my Comparative Lit students," Erik said quickly.

Dave frowned and scratched his beard. "Comp Lit?" he repeated, leaning back and stretching his arms over his head. "That's a cake class, who needs tutoring in that?"

"Well, it's not the _easiest_ class," Erik defended. "She's very bad at English." He added when Dave looked at him skeptically.

"Well, I think it's lovely of you to help her out when she needs it," Becky interrupted graciously. She patted Erik's knee affectionately and clasped his hand in hers. "I know I wish some of my professors had given me help in college!"

Dave laughed, and Erik felt the prickly beads of sweat forming again. If only they knew how he had been 'helping' his student, he thought miserably. Thankfully, Melanie chose that moment to walk into the sitting room and announce dinner.

As they took their seats around the table, Becky gently squeezed Erik's shoulders as she passed by and murmured, "My mother offered to take Zack for the night. She'll take him to day care in the morning."

"She did?" Erik asked softly.

Becky nodded with a little smile and took his hand in hers. "We finally have a night to ourselves!" she whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand.

Erik simply nodded and smiled quickly. He didn't trust himself to form a coherent sentence, and instead took a large gulp of wine. He loved Becky. No, he _adored_ Becky, almost as much as he loved having sex with Becky, as plain and vanilla as it could be sometimes. So why did he suddenly feel a rush a dread overcome him when her intentions for the evening were clear?

"Here it is, everybody!" Melanie called happily. She gently set the plate of grilled lamb loin in the center of the table and took her seat. "Dig it everyone!" she said enthusiastically, taking some herself. "Becky, please, tell me what you think of it, I just got this new recipe from a chat room online…"

Becky let go of Erik's hand and cut some lamb. Erik wearily rubbed his temples and tried to block out the sound of Becky and Melanie comparing recipes and food dishes, and Dave chortling over both of them. He glanced down offhandedly at his shirt cuff and paled when he saw traces of pink glitter lip gloss. How did it get on his sleeve? Did she kiss his _wrist_?

He frantically (and quietly) dipped his napkin in his glass of water, next to the wine, and tried rubbing it off. All he saw was his shirt cuff getting darker with the water; he couldn't tell if it was coming off or not.

"Honey?" Becky touched his forearm and cocked her head slightly in concern. "Are you ok?"

Erik looked up; everyone was staring at him. He anxiously dropped his napkin and smiled weakly. "Of c-course," he said uneasily. "I got some dirt on my shirt, that's all."

"Dry cleaners!" Dave declared. "Take it to mine, the nice Korean man down the street, I swear by him! I'll give you his card, Erik-" He stopped and looked at Erik with all seriousness. Erik gulped. "This man does a better job ironing my slacks than my wife!"

Melanie rolled her eyes and spoke to Becky. "They just like to talk about football, that's the only reason he goes there…"

Erik once more tuned out of the conversation. He took a sip of wine, and closed his eyes; if he concentrated hard enough, he could almost see the outline of Christine's naked figure…


	7. Shirley Temples and Cereal

"Erik! Erik, wake up!"

Erik swatted away the hand thumping his shoulder and rolled over. "No." he grunted sleepily. "Go away."

"Erik, you're going to be late." Becky said matter-of-factly, rolling off her husband. She grabbed her towel from the foot of her bed and walked to the bathroom. "And you're not going to have any hot water..."

Erik groaned and rolled onto his back. His muscles ached something terrible from the night before. He blinked several times and shook his head to clear the cobwebs. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so... enthusiastic with Becky. His stomach churned with guilt and he covered his face with his hands. He knew why he had been so eager- the image of Christine hadn't left his mind all night.

He sat up wearily and cradled his head in his palms. The cool sheets rubbed against his naked thighs and gave him goose-bumps. From the bathroom, he could hear the radio and shower going. He glanced at his bedside table and his eyes widened in shock- it was already eight fifteen!

"Shit." he muttered. His first class was at nine, and it took him at least fifteen minutes to get to the college. "Becky!" he called impatiently, pulling on a pair of sweats and walking to the partially opened door. "Hurry up, I'm going to be late."

"I _told_ you!" she called back from behind the shower curtain. "I'll be out in a second, I just have to wash my hair. Hey, Erik," she peaked her head out from inside and pointed at the radio. "Would you turn it up, please? I like this song."

He did, and left to iron his slacks. A second later, he frowned when he heard his wife singing along. "Your beauty is beyond compare, with flaming locks of auburn hair... please don't take my man away, Jolene... Erik, I'm done! Hurry up, so I can come back and blown dry my hair."

When Erik stepped into the bathroom, Becky was still singing under her breath. "Don't you love this song?" she sighed, wrapping her hair in a turban. "I heard she wrote it about a bank teller her husband was having an affair with. Can you imagine?"

A giant boxing glove squeezed Erik's lungs, popped his eyes out of his head, and bounced them across the room. Or at least that's what it felt like. "N-n-n-n-n-o, I can't imagine at all." Erik rasped, accidently dropping his towel on the floor.

Becky turned to him and frowned. "Honey, what's wrong with your voice?" she asked in concern. "Are you getting sick?"

"N-no, I'm fine," Erik replied hastily. He plastered a wide smile on his face and spun around to face her. "Nothing's wrong. That's terrible. Wow, a bank teller. I can't even imagine, that's awful, d-don't you think?"

Becky raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. "Right. I'm going to go get dressed now... good thing it's Friday, I think you need a break from school..." the last part was muttered under her breath as she closed the door behind her.

Erik exhaled a breath of relief as she left. He removed his mask and pressed his forehead against the bathroom wall. The cool tile felt good against the tender, sweaty skin of the half of his face that had been covered. It reminded him of the cool, tiny hands that had cradled and stroked his dick the afternoon before...

_Big, blue eyes stared at him from the floor. Large, pearly white teeth with a tiny gap between them bit back a plump pink lip. He threw back his head and groaned._

He gripped his penis as hot shower water trickled down his back and chest. "Christine..." he hissed through clenched teeth. He grunted and jerked himself harder as images of his student fluttered behind his eyelids. "Ugh... God!" he groaned, resting his palm on the wall in front of him.

_A lock of shiny, curly hair bounced on her shoulder... tight, white panties gripped an even tighter ass, and a puffy pink teenage nipples pointed at him innocently. "Professor...?" she mumbled in her sweet, crystalline, sing song-y voice. "Professor..."_

"Ah!" Erik swore, stumbling (nearly tripping) and banging his back against the soap dish. "Fuck, fuck, fu-f-f-uck..." he gasped under his breath, desperately jerking the last drops of his orgasms out of his now tender dick. He exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes as the shower water slowly washed his come down the drain...

"Hello, Becky," Erik said quickly, rushing through the kitchen. "I'm late, I'll just grab something to eat on the way-"

"Wait, wait, Erik," she protested, pushing a bowl of cereal into his hands and guiding him to the breakfast table. "This is how you get migraines, the doctor's told you a million times! You _have_ to eat breakfast, if you don't you know it throws off your whole day."

"But I'm late-" he protested, trying to stand up.

"Sit down and eat. You've been there almost thirty years, I don't think they're going to fire you if you're ten minutes late to a nine o clock class. Besides, you still have time, you probably won't even be late." She rolled her eyes and opened the fridge. "Sometimes I think school is too stressful for you. You've been so jumpy lately; is anything wrong?"

She had spun around and was now fixing him with her infamous Death Stare. Alex swore that whenever Becky used the Death Stare on her, her insides began to melt and she was forced to tell the truth or face certain death. Erik almost wanted death.

"Oh, damn, there goes my spoon!" he exclaimed nervously, breaking eye contact with his wife and bending down to grab the spoon. "What were you saying, dear?"

"I was asking you if there was something wrong at school," she replied. "You seem so anxious all the time."

"No, no, of course not! Why would you say that, I love the kids! No, you don't have anything to worry about darling, everything is fine." Erik lied with a charming smile. "So, ah, are you picking up Zack or is today my turn?"

"Oh, don't worry about it, I'll get him," Becky replied in an offhand voice. She turned back to her frying eggs and sighed. "Business has been a little droopy lately, I hope it picks up with the holidays."

"I'm sure it will." Erik reassured her, reaching around and kissing her cheek. "Don't worry about it." He patted her rear affectionately and kissed her once more. "I'll call you later on, alright?"

"Ok honey. Have a nice day- and oh, wait, don't forget your lunch!" she called. He came back and grabbed the brown paper bag gratefully. "Thank you, Becky!" he called from the hall.

"You're welcome, Erik." she replied, turning on the radio nearest to her. She smiled; _Jolene_ was playing again.

"So, tell me, how do you girls like school so far?" Mrs. Giry asked with a wide smile as she dug into her calamari. "Is it fun? Are you learning? Tell me, tell me!"

Christine smiled and nodded brightly. "Uh-huh!" she replied. "Learning a lot." She leaned forward and took a sip of her Shirley Temple. She loved Shirley Temples.

"Ri-ight," Meg snickered, rolling her eyes over her Diet Coke. "What do you _think_ she's learning, Mom?" she laughed. "This is Christine we're talking about, here. Let's be serious."

Mrs. Giry frowned at Meg reprovingly. "Meg!" she scolded uneasily. She turned her gaze to Christine. "That's not true, is it Christine...?" She asked hopefully, a piece of calamari suspended en route to her mouth.

Christine looked up from the blue drink umbrella she was spinning. "Huh?" she asked. "What?"

"You're learning a lot, aren't you, dear?" Mrs. Giry pried anxiously. "No boyfriends or anything, right?"

Christine smiled dreamily and wiggled in her seat. "Well, there _is_ this boy in my English class... his name is Raoul. He's really cute." She slurped up some Shirley Temple, and then added as an afterthought, "And he has a really big-"

Meg burst into laughter and buried her face in her hands. Mrs. Giry groaned and shook her head. "See, Mom? I told you! This is Christine we're talking about. What do you _think_ she's learning?" Meg laughed.

Mrs. Giry frowned and swatted her hand in Meg's direction. "Hush Megan," she snapped. "Christine, dear," she said kindly, patting the other girl's forearm. Christine looked up in surprise; she had gone back to her umbrella.

"Yes?" the girl asked innocently. She put the tip of the umbrella in her mouth and opened and closed it with her tongue. "Isn't this _cool_?" she giggled happily, plucking it from her lips and spinning it between her fingers.

"Please, focus, darling," Mrs. Giry asked wearily. "Are you concentrating on school enough? Who is this boy?"

"Yeah, what the hell kind of a name is Raoul?" Meg interjected. Her mother flashed her a disapproving frown and Meg obediently averted her gaze.

Christine shrugged and looked around distractedly. "I don't know, he's..." she trailed off with a goofy smile and kept looking around her. She sat up in her seat slightly and Meg rolled her eyes. "Christine," she said loudly, snapping her fingers in front of her face. "What's up? What do you need?"

"May I have another one please?" she asked politely, pushing her empty Shirley Temple glass to Mrs. Giry. She flashed her an adorable, charming smile, but the older woman frowned and examined Christine's plate. "But you've barely eaten anything, dear, look at all of the chicken fingers you have left!"

"I'm not hungry..." Christine insisted, wriggling in her seat.

"We ordered off the children's menu!" Meg pointed out. "It's like, half a portion."

Christine pouted and slumped her seat. Mrs. Giry nudged the chicken fingers closer to her and Christine shook her head wildly. "Nooo," she insisted. Mrs. Giry sighed and tried once more. "Please, just one more bite. Look at you dear, you're wasting away, you're so thin..."

"Yeah, how d'you do it?" Meg asked through a mouth full of french fries. She eyed Christine's tummy with envy. "You're like, what, a hundred pounds?"

"Eighty nine." she replied. "The doctor told me." She suddenly looked at Mrs. Giry with deer-in-headlight eyes and bit her lip. "I have to go to the bathroom." she said shyly.

"Look, it's right over there, under the sign that says 'Restrooms,' dear, do you see it?" Mrs. Giry replied. She knew what that look meant. Christine rarely had to say anything around her, her facial expression spoke so loudly for themselves. Christine trotted off, and Mrs. Giry turned to her daughter with a sigh.

"So how are you, Meg, darling?" she asked with a weary smile. "Is everything alright? At school, with Sauna?"

"Yeah, everything's good," Meg replied easily. "Sauna's thinking about joining the Peace Corps, though. I'm worried, I don't really want her to go, but she wants to go home and help, you know?"

Mrs. Giry nodded. "That's very brave of her, if she does go," she said gently. "It can't be easy to go back home after all she's been through."

"I know. If I hold her back, it's selfish of me, but I dunno..." Meg sighed. "I'll miss her."

"Of course you will," Mrs. Giry said. "But she will come back, and you two can start a new life. You'll be dancing in a company..." She trailed off hopefully, but at the mention of dancing, Meg frowned. "Yeah, well nothing's for sure." she said shortly. "Hey, where'd Christine go? She's been gone for a while."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Giry fretted. "I hope she didn't get lost."

"In the Apple-bee's _bathroom_, Mom?" Meg raised an eyebrow. "I know it's Christine, but I don't think she's that bad."

"Well I'm going to go look for her." Mrs. Giry announced. "Will you ask the waiter for a check darling?" She kissed her daughter's head and glanced over the crowd to see if she could find Christine, but there was no sign of curly hair anywhere. She walked to the restroom, but there was no one inside. "Oh dear..." she worried. She spun around and accidently bumped into someone as she was leaving.

"Mrs. Giry!" Christine exclaimed. "Hi! Look what I got!" She happily showed off her new Shirley Temple with two umbrellas and a cherry. Mrs. Giry sighed in relief and gently guided Christine back to the table. "You scared me for a moment there!" she smiled. "I thought you were lost!"

Christine giggled and rolled her eyes. "Silly! How would I get _lost_?" she laughed.

"Hey, the waiter already took the check away," Meg pointed out to Christine. "Where'd you get that drink?"

Christine smiled. "The nice man in the back gave it to me." she replied happily. She held out her palm and frowned in slight confusion. "Look, he gave me his phone number too."

Mrs. Giry frowned. "What nice man?" she asked quickly. "That's right, who paid for that?"

"He said it was free!" Christine replied, cradling her Shirley Temple defensively.

"Was it _completely_ free?" Mrs. Giry asked anxiously.

"Well I gave him a kiss," Christine replied, carelessly slurping some more. "He said he would give me one if I gave him a kiss, so I gave him a kiss. And my phone number"

"You kissed some strange man and gave him your number for a Shirley Temple?" Meg asked incredulously. "What kind of a kiss was it, Christine?"

"I kissed him on his cheek!" Christine insisted. "What's the big deal? It's free!" She bit her lip and went silent for a moment. Then she cocked her head uncertainly, and Mrs. Giry knew what was next. "Are you- mad at me?" she asked.

"No, no, no!" Mrs. Giry said hastily. She ushered both girls through the crowd and the doors. "Nobody's mad at anyone, darling, don't worry. Meg will drive us all back to the college and you girls can show me around some more. Maybe I can meet some of your professors!"

Christine giggled and blushed. "I like my professors." she mused.


	8. Sex

"Well, hell-o there, Professor Prude," a voice said from the doorway. Erik frowned and slowly turned around, the whiteboard eraser still clutched in his hand. "Nadir," he nodded curtly. "What brings you here?"

Nadir shrugged and ambled in, lazy and careless as you please, still wearing the same Birkenstocks. Erik shuddered; it was fifty degrees outside, on a warm day! "Oh, you know," Nadir smiled. "Just saying how do you do to my best friend of over thirty years, just wanted to see where the wind's blowing... hey, wanna smoke?" He grinned and pulled out a joint.

"Put- that- _away!_" Erik hissed in terror, glancing around his empty classroom nervously. "Nadir, I've already told you- I-I'm not the same person I was years ago, and I can't do the things I used to do. Can you understand that? Please?"

Nadir pouted and put the pot away. "We used to be against the fuzz, baby. Now," he eyed Erik's argyle cardigan in disgust and looked away in shame. "You are the fuzz, brother."

Erik frowned and smoothed his hands over his sweater self-consciously. "I am not the fuzz!" he snapped. "And what's wrong with my sweater?"

Nadir held up his hands in self defense. "Did I say anything?"

"No, but you eyed it with- distaste." Erik replied snippily.

"I dunno, man, it's a little... WASPy, don't you think?" Nadir winced.

"WASPy!" Erik exclaimed. "I am not, nor have I ever been... Protestant, thank you very much."

"Erik, you're wearing a _bow-tie_,for Shiva's sake. What have you come to?"

Erik opened his mouth in protest, but before he could answer, a knocking at the door distracted them both. "Pro-fe-ssoooor..." Erik knew that voice anywhere; his heart simultaneously stopped and sped up. "Christine!" he smiled and rushed to open the door. She smiled brightly when she saw him, but faded shyly when she saw Nadir. "Ah, Christine, you know Professor Khan, mmm? He teaches... gender studies." He frowned and cleared his throat.

Christine blushed and batted her eyelashes coyly. "It's nice to meet you, sir," she murmured shyly, hugging her books tightly to her chest. Nadir smiled broadly and extended his hand. "Hello there," he purred. "What a lovely student you have here, Er- ah, Professor Destler."

Erik frowned at the two of them and cleared his throat again. "Yes, and she's seventeen." he blurted. Nadir looked at him and raised an eyebrow, and Christine just looked at him and smiled. "Are you going to do it to me now, or should I come back later?" she asked innocently.

"I beg your pardon!" Erik spluttered, turning beet red.

"Tutoring!" she reminded him with a giggle. "Should I come back later?"

Nadir halfheartedly paid attention to their discussion; he was far more focused on examining the delectable bottom of the girl his friend was supposed to be tutoring. He couldn't remember seeing a behind quite so... perky, at least not in the crowds he usually hung out with. She was too skinny though- she looked like a twelve year old, which was cute, if one was into that sort of thing...

"Ahem- Nadir!" Erik cleared his throat. Nadir looked up from Christine's butt, startled. "Yeah?"

"If you don't mind, I have to get started with Christine. You're welcome to stay, if you would like..." But it was clear from the expression on Erik's face that he was not welcome. Nadir smiled and nodded. "Yeah, baby, I think I'll hang out with you two for a while. Some old dude is using my room anyway-"

Christine giggled, but quickly stopped with a disapproving look from Erik. "Professor Beale?" Erik corrected. "Yes, he's the head of your department. Um... have a seat, make yourself at home then." He gestured around vaguely, and walked to the back of the room. Christine trotted after him eagerly, glancing at Nadir over her shoulder with a curious smile. Nadir winked at her and she beamed.

"Professor!" she whispered, once they both sat down.

"Yes, Christine?" Erik replied, opening his binder. He looked up, and saw she was still staring at Nadir, who had just pulled out his lighter and...

"No smoking!" Erik hissed across the room. Nadir anxiously fumbled around and swore under his breath. "Sorry, I'll put it away!" He relented grumpily. He pulled a small leather bound book from his back pocket and began to read; Erik turned around, satisfied, but frowned. Christine was still staring.

She kicked him under the desk. "Ow!" he complained. "What was that for?"

"Shh!" she giggled, grabbing his hand enthusiastically. "Professor, where is he from? He talks so funny!"

"Nad- I mean, Professor Khan?" Erik replied, going back to looking through his binder. "He's originally from Iran, but he grew up in England. He's British, more than anything. Why?"

"That is so cool!" she exclaimed. "I like his accent. It's sexy."

Erik grunted. She smiled and grabbed his thigh under the desk. "I like your accent too..." she purred with bedroom eyes. He grunted again, and wordlessly removed her hand. "I'm flattered. Ok, today we are actually going to work. Let's start with that homework assignment from last class, hmm? Do you have it?"

She distractedly glanced through her book bag, and shook her head mournfully. "Nooo..." she replied. "Are you mad at me?" Erik saw The Pout and panicked. "No. No, no, no, I'm not mad at all, look, I have extras right here! Don't worry about it, darling." he said hastily.

She obediently took the paper from him and looked at it blankly. "I don't get this." she whined. "Why can't we just go to your office?" She made a play for his thigh again, but this time, Erik was wise to her. "Ah-ah-ahhh," he said, grabbing her wrist gently and placing it on the desk. "We're going to work today, dear. You're so behind, and I want you to be caught up. We can..." he coughed. "Play later."

She frowned and dropped her head on the desk. "Professor, I don't get this stuff!" she insisted. "Don't make me do it, please..."

"Ok, ok!" Erik relented before The Pout could resurface. He shuffled through his binder some more and found an older worksheet. When he handed it to Christine, he was graced with another Blank Stare. "I don't get this either!" she insisted, slamming her hand on the desk. Nadir looked up at the noise, and Erik quickly grabbed her wrists. "Shh!" he soothed. "Calm down. We're going to do it together, it's not difficult, trust me."

"But I don't even _know_ what an- ad-jec-tive is," she sniffed. "I can't even spell it."

Erik frowned. He was still holding her wrists. "Christine, how much do you remember from high school English?" he asked warily.

She shrugged. "I don't know," she murmured. "Some stuff..."

"Do you know what... a noun is?" he ventured. He was holding her hands now, willing her to answer yes. She dolefully shook her head. "How about a verb?" he tried again. She shook her head again. "An adverb, adjective, subject, predicate?"

No, no, no. Erik's heart dropped. He groaned. How did one complete twelve odd years of schooling and manage not to know basic grammar? It was beyond him. Christine was staring sadly at her worksheet, and Erik felt bad. He didn't want her to feel like a failure, because then nothing would be accomplished. He took a deep breath, and opened his mouth.

"I like your bow-tie!" she exclaimed suddenly. Erik blinked and looked from her to the bow-tie. Was she not just staring sadly at her paper, lamenting her ignorance of the English language? Or had he imagined it all...?

"That's a pretty color, it matches-" she pointed to the masked side of his face happily. "That eye!" She frowned. "Why are your eyes different colors? That one is blue and that one is... yellow. I've never seen yellow eyes before, except on cats. Is it because of the mask? What's it for?" she continued babbling on and on, asking him mindless, random questions, and Erik just stared at her in half shock, half wonder. He had never seen someone with a shorter attention span in his life.

"Christine. Christine, Christine," he said gently. She stopped talking and smiled. Her cheeks were so pink and round, just like a cherub. "Yes?" But before he could say another word, she was frowning in despair. "Oh, Professor, I'm so hungry!" she moaned, throwing her head on the desk. She grabbed his hands desperately, and rubbed her belly with her own. "I'm _starving_, I'm _e-man-ci-pated_!"

Erik had to laugh. "Emaciated?" He corrected her. "Very good, that's quite a word, Christine. You're hungry sweetheart?" he asked gently.

She nodded.

"What have you had to eat all day?" he asked.

"Well... Mrs. Giry took me and Meg to Apple-bee's..." she began. "And I had _some_ chicken, but I wasn't _hungry_ then, and I'm so hungry now, and-"

"Who's Mrs. Giry?" he interrupted curiously. She blinked. "Meg's mommy." she replied.

Erik smiled. "Oh, Meg, the nice girl who meets you here sometimes?" He approved; he knew she was very intelligent. Christine nodded. "She's my roommate. She's a lesbian." She added.

Erik blinked. "Oh- er- that's nice, I suppose." He silently wondered if she was on some sort of medication for ADHD; she had it, there was no doubt in his mind. Whether it was diagnosed or not was another question...

"Christine," he began curiously. "Do you take any- medicine, or anything? During the day?"

She nodded vigorously. "Yup." she replied. She fished in her bag and pulled out a circular little medicine case. Erik recognized it immediately. "I have to take these... every day." She explained, pointing to the little pills. "Every day, every day, every day."

"Yes, I imagine so." Erik smiled.

"Meg has to remind me, she tells me to take them. I don't know what they're for, but I know I have to take one every day, every day, every day." Christine said dutifully. She had a habit of repeating things, he noticed. But he noticed what she said with shock.

"You don't know- Christine, you don't know what those pills are for?" he asked in disbelief. "You don't know what medicine you're taking?"

She shrugged. "Mrs. Giry said they're like vitamins." she said. "She just told me to take them every day, every-"

"Yes, every day." Erik murmured under his breath. She smiled and tilted her head. "I'm hungry." she announced. "Emanci-"

Erik laughed. "Yes, emaciated!" He smiled at her sympathetically. She was odd, and she had her... quirks, he knew, but she was also very sweet. He couldn't help but be charmed by her. "Ok," he sighed, spreading his palms across the desk. "Let me get rid of this man, and I'll take you to get something to eat. Ok? We can study another time."

She clapped her hands together and squealed happily. "Oooh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she beamed.

"Right. Shhh," he ordered, motioning for her to stay where she was. She nodded and clasped her hands in her lap obediently as he got up and made his way to the front of the class. He glanced at the book Nadir was reading, and rolled his eyes. _Howl._ It figured. Nadir looked up at him over his round tinted glasses and smiled. "Hey Sunshine," he purred. "You done tutoring already?"

"Uh..." Erik thought fast. "Yes. And I have to leave right away, I have to do something at the bank for Becky." His neck turned red from his fibbing, but he played it cool. Nadir's face dropped slightly. "Oh." he said, closing his book. "Alright then... I'll uh, make like a baby and head out I guess." He stood slowly and smiled quickly at his old friend. Erik suddenly felt bad. If there was anyone who knew him better than anyone, it was Nadir. They had been through a lot together, and all he had done since Nadir's arrival was blow him off repeatedly.

"Where- are you staying?" Erik asked gruffly.

"Oh, I'm renting this little place about fifteen minutes away." Nadir replied. "Real cute dig, she's a divorcee... gives me a good rate." He put his hands in his pockets and slowly started walking to the door. "I'm gonna split now, Pussycat. See you around." he waved, and continued walking away, but Erik suddenly blurted, "Wait!"

Nadir turned around. "What's new, Pussycat?" he joked.

"Maybe you should come over this weekend," he said lamely. "Since you never came over before. Becky would love to see you, and you could meet Zack. If you wanted." He nervously adjusted his bow-tie and waited for an answer. In the back, Christine was doodling all over Erik's notebook... without his knowledge.

Nadir brightened visibly. "Suuure," he grinned. "Sounds good; will Becky be cooking?"

Erik laughed. "Yes, I'll tell her you're expecting something." he replied.

"Alright man." Nadir smiled. "I'll see you around." He turned and walked through the door, and Erik breathed a sigh of relief. He turned to the back of the classroom and walked back. Christine was doodling on some notebook... on _his_ notebook!

"Christine!" he cried, snatching the binder from her. "What did you do?"

"I made it pretty." she said simply. "Don't you like it? Look," she kneeled on the chair and leaned over his arm. "There's flowers, and trees, and a birdy, and a butterfly, and a sun... isn't it pretty?" She beamed.

"I..." Erik was speechless. He had been using the same binder for the past twenty odd years, and nothing more than a stray pencil scratch had ever marred its surface. Now it was a mural of sunshine, and flowers, and ladybugs... "It's very nice." He finished weakly. He smiled halfheartedly, and cleared his throat. "Thank you. Are you ready to go?"

She nodded and grabbed her things. As she followed him to the front of the room, he instructed her slowly. "Alright. I'm going to get my car, bring it around to the back entrance, and I want you to meet me there, ok?" He said slowly, making sure she understood. She nodded and applied chapstick. "Why can't I just go with you now?"

"Because... I don't want someone to see us together like this." Erik said, feeling that ugly shame bubbling up inside of him again. He thought of Becky, but violently shoved the thought away. "Will you be ready?"

She nodded dutifully. "Yes sir."

"Good. Ok. I'll see you in a minute." Erik muttered nervously. He was starting to realize that whenever he was around Christine, he could feel his blood pressure spiking... and not always for a good reason.

Some ten minutes later, Christine was happily buckled into the heated front seat of Erik's BMW SUV. "Um, Christine?" Erik began nervously, glancing around the parking lot. "Would you mind just- ducking down a little? Until we're off campus?"

"Ok..." She bent, chest to knees and hands to toes in a second, with no trouble at all, and Erik did a double take. "Oh- oh my. You're quite flexible, aren't you?" His hands were trembling on the steering wheel.

She looked up and smiled. "I'm a cheerleader!" she explained. Then she gasped suddenly. "Omigosh!"

"What!" he cried, eyes widening. He slammed the brakes and the car behind him beeped angrily. She smiled. "Are you coming to homecoming?"

He exhaled and closed his eyes momentarily. "Fuck," he swore. "Don't _do_ that!" He grasped the steering wheel tightly and tried to fix her with an angry stare, but she smiled at him uncertainly, and he couldn't. "Can I sit up now please?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm sorry. You gave me quite a shock; you know I'm very old, you can't do that." he lectured sternly. "And, well, no, I wasn't planning on coming... when is it?"

"Tomorrow." she replied. "I'm going to be cheering! Please, please, please, will you come?"

He smiled... the thought of beautiful young Christine flipping and jumping in a short skirt was so tempting... but what about Becky? "I don't know, Christine; I never go to the games or anything, it's not my thing. And what about my wife and my son? What do I tell her?"

"Bring them with you!" she exclaimed excitedly. "Oooh, and then I could meet her! Pretty please, Professor, will you come? For me?" She stroked his arm and batted her eyelashes. He struggled to concentrate on the road.

"You're dangerous." he croaked, moving uncomfortably in his seat. Her hands were distracting. "Fine, I'll go." She squealed loudly and started to clap; Erik's pressure spiked again. "O-ok," he tried to smile. "Calm down, calm down..."

"Thank you for the food, Professor," Christine purred. They were in the car and she was stroking him again, only now she had moved to his inner thigh. "It tasted very good..." She leaned over and swirled her tongue in his ear. He shuddered and squeezed his knees together. "Y-you're welcome." he replied hoarsely. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"Oh yes," she giggled. "I enjoyed it very much..." She pressed baby kisses below his ear and on his neck, and continued massaging his thigh gently. "Where are we going now?"

"I have to go home..." he breathed, struggling to concentrate on the road. "My wife."

"Can't you call her?" Christine begged softly. "Tell her you have to stay late... stay with me longer, please?" Her hand moved to his crotch and she squeezed gently. He groaned. "Christine, please, I'm driving." he protested.

"Call your wife." she whispered. "Come to my room, I need kisses..."

"What about Meg?" he replied. They were almost at the school, and if she kept doing what she was doing he wasn't going to have a choice; his dick was going to grab him by his bow-tie and drag him into her room.

"Nooo, she has a late class on Fridays, she won't be there. Please..." She unzipped him, unbuttoned him, and slipped her fingers inside. "Mmm..." she giggled. "You want to come!"

Erik winced at the double entendre. Her fingers were driving him bananas, he could barely keep his hands on the steering wheel. "Ok, ok," he relented, grabbing her hand and moving it away from his crotch. "I'll call her right now, but you have to be quiet."

"Yes sir." she nodded. As he parked near the dorms and dialed his wife, she innocently began unbuttoning her pink dress, until her white cotton bra was clearly visible. She touched his hands and pointed. "See? I wore a bra." she mouthed happily. His eyes bulged and he shook his head.

"Becky!" he squeaked. "H-hi, it's Erik."

"Yes dear, I know it's you. I have caller ID," Becky replied dryly. "What's up?"

"Uh..." Christine kept unbuttoning her dress. She climbed over the armrest between the seats and planted her bottom firmly in his lap. "I-I-I-I-"

Becky rolled her eyes on the other line. "Erik, what is wrong with you? Have you suddenly developed a stutter?" she asked impatiently. "What is it?"

"No!" he gasped. Christine pressed her fingers into his pants again, and grabbed his penis. "Mmmm..." she whispered. His eyes widened in panic, and he coughed loudly. "I just wanted to tell you that I'll be even later today, I have a huge stack of papers that I have to grade, and lesson plans to write, and-"

"Ok," Becky replied slowly. "How late do you think you'll be?"

Christine leaned forward and kissed his neck seductively. Her hand was still moving, and Erik felt all the blood in his body drain to his dick. "I... oh God... I have... a lot... I have a lot of work to do..." he breathed. "Pretty late."

"Well ok," she replied warily. "Don't kill yourself, ok? You've been working really hard lately, I'm worried about you. Zack hardly ever sees you!"

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, Becky... it won't happen again, but I just really... ooh!" His eyes widened as Christine wriggled around in his lap. "-have to get this work done. I'll talk to you later, ok?"

"Ok honey, I love-" _Click._ Becky looked at the phone and frowned. "Oh well," she shrugged to herself. "He must be really busy."

"Chris-teeen!" Erik exclaimed, grabbing her waist. "Do you not see me on the phone with my wife? Are you out of your _mind_?"

"No," she murmured. "I'm just really horny. Come one, let's go!" She quickly (with some difficulty) shoved him in his pants, zipped him up, and opened the door. "Come _on_!" she insisted, pulling his hand impatiently.

"Wait a minute!" he protested. He turned the car off, grabbed his phone and slammed the door. Christine tugged his arm, but Erik stopped her and shook his head. "I can't go in there with you, security will get suspicious." he said.

She blinked her big eyes and glanced at his trousers longingly. He felt his ego swell up in masculine pride, and he bravely puffed out his chest. "Don't worry," he whispered. "Go in first and I'll meet you." She nodded and turned; he patted her bottom encouragingly. "Go, go!"

When he reached the sign in desk, Christine was no where to be seen. His heart was beating with nervous exhilaration, and it was this anxious energy that gave him the courage to approach the security guard.

"Hey there, Professor Destler!" Billy the Security Guard greeted him. "How y' doing, sir?"

"Why, hello there, Billy!" Erik smiled back. "I'm well thanks; and you?"

"Doing just fine," Billy smiled. "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh- yes, actually, I have to use one of these lecture halls, is it alright if I came in?" Erik replied smoothly, gesturing to the little gate barring his way. Billy waved his hand, pushed a button, and ushered him through. "No problem, sir. You ever need to get through here, just let me know, you got it?"

Erik laughed amiably. "Well, thank you, son. Oh- Billy?"

"Yes, sir?" Billy saluted jokingly. Erik plastered on another smile. "Where is the restroom?"

"Oh, it's upstairs, sir. You'll have to go to where the dorms are, just take the elevator and a student will show you." Billy explained, pointing to the elevator. Erik smiled and waved. "Thank you, Billy," he muttered. "Thank you." He rounded the corner, and reached out to press the up button, when a mass of soft curls and pink fabric assaulted him.

"Oof!" he exclaimed, stumbling backwards slightly. Christine had pounced on him; literally. Her legs and arms were wrapped around him tightly, and her lips were glued to his. "Mmm, hurry, press the button!" she growled, grinding her crotch against him. He frantically obliged, and stumbled inside clumsily when it dinged.

"What floor?" he gasped, cupping her bottom to keep her up. "Three," she replied. She bent her head and kissed his neck sweetly; her tongue felt delicious on his skin, he couldn't even think about the marks and hickeys she had to be making. They elevator dinged again, and he quickly set her down. She took his hand, and he marveled at how small she was; like a little girl. He didn't even thank God for his luck that no one was in the halls...

"This is your room?" he asked softly, looking around curiously. She nodded silently. "It's very nice," he commented, taking another step in. She closed the door behind them and then ran and jumped on the left hand bed. "This is my bed!" she giggled, jumping up and down. "And _my_ side. Do you like it?" She finally sat down and kicked off her shoes. "This is Baby," she said tenderly, cradling a ratty old teddy bear. "My grandma gave her to me. Do you want to hold her?" she offered with an innocent smile.

Erik gulped and smiled awkwardly. "Oh-ok," he said uncertainly, taking another step closer. She laughed and patted the bed beside her. "Come on, sit with me!" she invited him brightly. She gently placed Baby in his lap and patted her head. "She doesn't really like strangers," she confided in a whisper. "But if you hold her enough, she'll start to like you. You like my Barbies?"

"Excuse me?" Erik stammered. His eyes followed her finger, and he suddenly realized her side of the room was packed with Barbie dolls, all still in their boxes. "Why yes, they're lovely; do you like to play with them?" he asked uncertainly.

"No, silly!" she laughed, curling her feet on the bed with her. "I collect them. Aren't they pretty?" Erik nodded, and loosened his bow-tie. The room was hot. He felt like a pervert.

"Ok, Baby, it's time to go in your bed," Christine crooned, taking the bear from Erik's arms and placing her in a little basket with blankets and pillows. "Go to sleep. Me and Professor are going to kiss now." She turned back to him with a smiled, and promptly dropped her dress. Erik did a double take; he hadn't even noticed her unbutton it.

"Do you want the light on or off?" she whispered, crawling in beside him and unbuttoning his cardigan. She unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor; "It's kinda uncomfortable." she wrinkled her nose. He blushed unwillingly, and gazed at her breasts in awe. They were so tiny, more like swollen nipple than real breasts. She was still wearing her socks and panties; his hands reached around and cupped her behind gently.

"Leave it on," he whispered. "I want to see you; you're so pretty."

She blushed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "Really?" she smiled uncertainly. She kissed his cheek and unbuttoned his shirt. "Why are you wearing so many clothes!" she giggled, finally reaching chest hair. She nuzzled her face against him and purred like a kitten. "You're nice and warm..." she smiled. She helped him out of his trousers, and then pulled her panties off. She was still wearing her socks.

"Wha- why are you..." Erik breathed in confusion, as his fingers gently touched her between her legs. "No hair..." he breathed in awe. "You're so soft!" Her vulva was swollen and completely hairless; he had never been with a women without pubic hair. It was extremely erotic.

"It hurts," she admitted. "But it lasts forever!"

He groaned and rolled them over so he was on top; it was difficult, since the bed was so small. She mewed happily and wrapped her legs around his waist... ah... ah... _mmmm_. She smiled.

After they were done, Christine dozed in his arms. She reminded him of a baby bird the way she slept with her hair all around her like a nest. He suddenly felt very protective over her, now that they had... what? He wasn't sure what it was. It wasn't making love, but it didn't just feel like sex either- at least not to him. Before, all she had done was give him oral sex, and heavy petting. Now they were really lovers.

"Christine..." he whispered, twirling a curl in his fingers. "Wake up, sweetheart, I have to leave. My wife is going to kill me."

"Mmmm..." she stirred and buried her face in his chest even more. "Nuh-uh!" she insisted. "Stay..."

"No, I can't. Becky is already not happy; she said I don't spend enough time with my son." He frowned thoughtfully, and rested his palm on her shoulder. "I'll come to your game tomorrow."

She looked up and peeked at him through her hair. "You promise?"

"I promise." he smiled. "Now let me up, I have to get dressed."

She grunted and rolled over. "Well, _I_ don't," she replied. "_I'm_ going back to sleep, since you woke me up."

He laughed and buttoned his pants up. "It's early! You're just a baby, you should be full of energy."

"Well, I'm not." she muttered grouchily. "You have to kiss me before you go!" she called. He was grabbing his coat from the miniscule entry way, but he made his way back to the bed and knelt down beside her. "I like your chest hair." she mumbled, burying her face in his neck.

"I like you." he replied. He kissed her lips tenderly, and then kissed her forehead. "Go to sleep, my darling. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Good-bye, Professor..." she sighed.


	9. Homecoming

Erik impatiently tugged the wool sweater over his son's bobbing, restless head. Zack muttered something, but it was muffled by both the sweater and his father's eagerness to leave.

"There you are!" Erik said happily, adjusting the sweater quickly. "All ready, right Zack?"

"Itch," Zack replied with a frown. He hunched his shoulders and tried to scratch his neck uncomfortably. "Hot."

"Well, it's cold-"

"Erik!" Becky sang, leaning her head into Zack's room. "Are we ready?"

"Yes!" Erik replied quickly, scooping up Zack and grabbing his winter coat. "Let's go, is the car ready?"

She nodded. "Do you want to drive?"

"Sure," he replied, handing Zack to her and taking the keys. He turned the heat on full blast and searched for the NPR station while Becky buckled Zack in his car seat. Once she was settled in her seat and Zack was happily playing with a Ninja Turtle action figure, Erik quickly backed out of the driveway and started to the university.

"So are any of your students football players?" Becky asked mildly, curling one foot under her and extending one to the heater. She looked attractive- she was wearing jeans, brown clogs, and a cozy, cute pullover sweater. She looked like the wife of an esteemed college professor.

"Uh... yeah, actually," Erik replied. "From my Lit class, there's a few of them on the team. You remember the de Changys, John and Lisa?"

She nodded with a small smile. "Well, I have their younger son, Raoul," Erik finished, turning the heat down.

"Oh, really?" she replied. "How is he?"

Erik laughed slightly. "Well... he's definitely there on a football scholarship. He's a nice kid, he just never studies or does his homework."

"Aw, well, he's young, he's in college. You can't party all your life." Becky said carelessly, pulling her dirty blonde hair up into a ponytail. "Let him enjoy it while he can."

Erik nodded distractedly. "What about cheerleaders?" Becky teased playfully. "Are any of them your students?"

Erik paled. "Um..." Why was his throat so dry? She wasn't serious, she was just teasing him. "I don't really know, maybe one or two..." he shrugged uncomfortably.

"Hmph." Becky sniffed in mock suspicion.

They arrived at the school several minutes later, and Erik balked at the ridiculous amount of traffic filtering through the parking lot. It was homecoming after, all. "Shit," he muttered. "How am I going to find a parking space?"

"Erik," Becky scolded with a frown. "Watch your language, Zack is in the car."

"He doesn't understand," Erik brushed it off, squinting down the rows and rows of cars. He finally spotted one, and quickly pulled inside.

"Yeah, but he might start repeating things that you say!" She replied, opening the door and stepping outside. "Hello, Mr. Zacky!" she crooned when she opened the back door. "Are you ready to see a football game?"

"Yeah!" he exclaimed happily. "Foooot- ball." She unstrapped him and tried to carry him, but he wiggled and demanded to be set down. She obliged, and he made a run for the stadium, but Erik grabbed him and laughed, "Not so fast, little man! I can barely navigate through this campus during homecoming. I don't think you'll make it."

"Daddy!" Zack insisted, eyes blazing in excitement at everything going on around him. "Down!"

"No, Zack-"

"Oooh, Professor Destler!" a voice squealed. "Is that your son?" Erik whipped his head around and smiled. It was Meg, Christine's room mate. "Hello there, Meg," he replied pleasantly. "Yes, this is Zack, and this is my wife, Rebecca." he gestured to Becky who smiled and extended her hand.

"It's nice to meet you!" Meg replied brightly. "This is- oh, where did she go? There she is!" She jumped up and down and waved frantically at someone. Seconds later, an impossibly tall, gorgeous black girl walked up to them and beamed. Erik stared; her teeth were blinding.

"This is my girlfriend, Sauna," Meg introduced them. "Sau, this is Professor Destler, you know, Christine's professor, and Mrs. Destler. And this is their son Zack!" she exclaimed, bending down and smiling at him.

"It is very nice to meet you," Sauna smiled. She had a very deep, accented voice, and her skin was the blackest brown Erik had ever seen. Meg had done well. "Christine is always talking about your class."

Erik looked down slightly to hide his blush. "Oh, well, she's a very sweet girl," he waffled awkwardly, fixing Zack's jacket to occupy his hands.

Becky didn't notice his discomfort. Meg did.

"Well, it was nice to see you Meg," Erik said, pulling Zack away. "It was very nice to meet you, Sauna. I'll see you girls around school." They waved goodbye and Becky took Zack from Erik. "She was very sweet," she commented mildly. They got in line for tickets. "Is she your student?"

"Um, no, actually, I have her room mate, Christine, in my Lit class." Erik murmured, shelling out money to the girl sitting behind the safe box. "Sweet girl."

"Oh, well it was nice that her room mate recognized you!" Becky replied in surprise. "This school is pretty small!"

"Well, she's always coming by my classroom to wait for Christine, or take her to the movies or something, so I guess she sees a lot of me." Erik replied uncomfortably.

"Is Christine a lesbian too?" Becky inquired curiously. Erik laughed. "No, no, Christine is most certainly not a lesbian." he replied dryly. Becky raised her eyebrow slightly, but Erik smiled quickly and gestured towards the stadium. "Shall we?"

They found seats next to Dave and Melanie, who had also brought their kid. Zack beamed and extended a hand full of gummy worms Erik knew to be at least two days old. "Yummy." he smiled by way of peace offering.

The little girl eyed the candy with some disdain, but Zack thrust his hand out more eagerly and insisted, "Yummy!"

While the children introduced themselves and ate their candy, Becky and Erik took their seats beside Melanie and Dave. "Nice night, isn't it?" Dave said to Erik while their wives quickly began chatting about the children. "Nice night to win."

"Yes, very nice," Erik agreed. He blew on his hands to warm them and squinted across the football field. "Who are we playing again?"

Dave looked at Erik in disbelief. "Tell me you're kidding," he said seriously. "You don't know who we're playing? Erik, it's kind of a big deal."

"I knew, I just forgot!" Erik insisted. Dave rolled his eyes and gestured to the giant red and blue eagle dancing at the opposite end of the field. "American." he said simply. "They're good."

"Hmm," Erik murmured noncommittally. His eyes scanned the bleachers and the field and he smiled and waved whenever he saw a student he knew. Meg and Sauna passed by them again, but this time, they seemed to be in a heated debate, so Erik refrained from waving.

Meanwhile, Melanie seemed to have a significantly close eye on Dave, who was smiling and nodding at nearly every pretty girl that passed his way. "What's wrong?" Becky asked in concern, noticing her friend's hawkish behavior.

"Hmph," Melanie sniffed suspiciously as Dave suddenly turned an eager face to the field, where the cheerleaders were filling out. "Look at the cheerleaders," she replied, nodding her head in their direction.

"Yeah?" Becky raised an eyebrow, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. The girls were clad in their customary next to nothing skirts and tops, and were either flirting with the crowd or throwing ridiculously high kicks and "Go team!"'s in the air.

"See that blonde with the high ponytail?" Melanie muttered, discreetly pointing her out. Becky squinted and followed Melanie's finger. "Yeah, I see her," she replied. She was pretty, and was showing off for some football players watching her appreciatively. "What about her?"

"Watch out for that one." Melanie said darkly. She jerked her head in Dave's direction. "Wanted to give her some 'extra tutoring', but I caught on before anything happened. I'm not saying anything, but if she's Erik's student, I would just keep an eye on them."

Becky frowned and looked at the girl again. She hardly looked like Erik's type. "I trust Erik," she said confidently. "I don't have to keep an eye on him. He's been working here for as long as we've been married, and he's never looked twice at a student."

Melanie shrugged. "Suit yourself." she replied noncommittally.

As Melanie warned Becky about the leggy blonde, Erik's eyes were suddenly glued to a certain brunette bending over and shaking her pom poms at the crowd. Christine looked beautiful, to say the least- she had bright red ribbons tied around around two adorable French braid pigtails, and her uniform was just a shade too short to wear on a normal day in school. He sighed longingly.

"What's up, Erik?" Dave asked distractedly. He was staring at the cheerleaders too, but far more obviously than Erik ever would, especially when he was out with his wife and child! "Ah..." Dave laughed after a moment, throwing a side glance at his friend. "Which one you staring at?"

"Excuse me?" Erik asked frostily.

"The cheerleaders, man!" Dave hissed, with a cock of his eyebrow in their direction. "Eighteen, finally legal, and all yours if you want one..." He ignored Erik's look of shock and continued. "I've had my eyes on that one, see?" he gestured to the very same blonde Melanie had been warning Becky about. "Jamie. Gorgeous. Freak too, if you know what I mean... Melanie found out about it, though... shame."

"I don't- I mean, I'm not-" Erik stammered, glancing at Becky nervously. She was busy trying to pry the days old chicken nugget out of Zack's hand before he gave it to the little girl, and not paying attention to Erik. Melanie seemed to be glaring at the cheerleaders and Erik gulped. He shook his head wordlessly.

"Oh, alright man, no offense. I'm just saying..." Dave winked and nudged Erik with a chuckle. Before Erik could answer, the stadium lights suddenly began flashing, and the football players all ran to the center of the field and lined up. A voice suddenly boomed out of the speakers and Zack gasped and fell off the seat.

"_Ladies and gentlemen, Cardinals and Eagles, welcome to the 2006 homecoming game between Wesleyan University and American University!"_

There was a loud thundering of applause on both side, and the cheerleaders kicked their legs even higher. When he glanced down, Erik caught Christine's eye and felt his heart stop. He stared at her, speechless, as she smiled sweetly and blew him a little kiss. He gulped and glanced nervously at Becky and Zack, trying to tell her that his wife was right beside him, but when he looked back at her, she was gone.

"_If you would all stand for the playing of the Star Spangled Banner, sung by freshman... Christine Daae!"_

Applause faltered on the American side, but grew enormously on the Wesleyan side. Erik's jaw dropped in shock; Christine was going to sing the National Anthem? He had no idea she could sing. Quite frankly, he was unaware of any talents she had besides... he coughed and glared at the many young men whistling and cat calling for her, wondering if they were thinking the same thing.

"O-oh say can you see..."

If possible, Erik's jaw dropped even more. His throat dried up, and if someone had asked him to speak right then, he would be lost for words. Her voice was _incredible_! It was beautiful, it was... impossible! He craned his neck for a better view and saw her standing on the band pedestal, barely reaching the mic. It was taller than her, and at this realization, Erik suddenly felt an inexplicable wave of tenderness wash over him.

The crowd oooh-ed and ahh-ed when she hit the final 'free' note. As the crowd around him began sitting down and settling in for the game, Erik bobbed his head up and down, searching frantically for a tiny flash of a red and black cheerleading uniform. Finally, he spotted her... she was smiling at him again. She beckoned flirtatiously, then disappeared into the crowd again.

"I-um... Becky?" Erik stammered, searching the crowd again. The football game had started, and people were slowly making their way back to the bleachers.

"Yes, dear?" Becky turned to him with a smile. She was holding Zack on her lap to keep them both warm, and it looked like her and Melanie had been gossiping. Erik felt a tell tale stab of guilt, but angrily pushed it away. "I'm going down to get something to eat, would you like anything? Melanie? Dave?"

Several minutes later, armed with a laundry list of things to buy for everyone, Erik grudgingly made his way to the snack counter. Just before he placed his order, a small hand suddenly grabbed his arm and yanked him behind the bleachers.

"What in the world-"

"Shhh!" a giggling voice ordered. Erik felt himself being dragged through a doorway, and into what felt like a small room... the lights flickered on, and he realized he was in an old ladies room. Christine was standing before him, looking sinfully adorable, young, forbidden... he could think of a million words to describe the way she looked.

"You came," she breathed, pushing him against the door. "I saw you in the bleachers."

"I saw you too," he confessed. "Why didn't you tell me you could sing? Your voice is so beautiful..." He rested his hands on her hips and pulled her closer. She purred and nuzzled his neck. "You never asked me," she replied. He smiled, and kissed her, kissed like he had been longing to kiss her since he had left her room the night before.

"Mm, wait, wait," he stopped her and pulled away suddenly. He glanced at the door and nervously made sure it was locked, then checked under the stalls. "Don't worry, Professor," she assured him. "Nobody uses this one anymore, I don't even think anyone knows about it. We're all alone..." She kissed his neck, and Erik melted. She was so warm and tiny and soft, his hands didn't know where to begin. They roamed aimlessly over her miniscule curves and taunt nipples, and his right hand feverishly reached under her skirt and squeezed her bottom.

"Oooh!" she squealed, suddenly pulling away from him and leaning over the sink. "Do it to me! Please," she giggled at him over her shoulder, and thrust her bottom into the air flirtatiously. Her tiny cheerleading skirt flipped over, revealing tight, tiny red panties that were riding up her behind slightly. Erik's eyes bulged, and he nervously glanced at the very old, very weak looking doorknob.

"Christine, if someone finds us-"

"I'll ask them to do it to me too!" she giggled, pulling down her panties. "Come on, it's cold in here!"

Erik walked behind her and gently touched between her legs. She squeaked and threw him an accusatory stare. "Your hands are freezing!" she whined.

"I'm sorry!" he winced, rubbing his palms together to warm them up. He unzipped his fly, and pulled himself out- Christine was right, it was cold- then steadily placed a hand on her hip. When he finally pressed into her, he gasped hoarsely. "Oh my god, you're wet..." he groaned. She made a little noise and he felt her adjust herself. "May I?" he murmured, gently playing her skirt.

She made a cute little noise and nodded. Erik slowly began a nice, even rhythm in and out, in and out, and he was so close to coming when Christine suddenly began wriggling beneath him. "Don't forget about me!" she begged, pressing herself against him desperately. "I'm not done yet!"

"I'm sorry," Erik groaned, slowly his tempo. He stopped for a moment, completely buried inside of her, and leaned over her, resting his palms on the sink. He gently pulled her hair away and exposed her neck; she wriggled again and made a noise of upset.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly.

"It's cold," she whispered sheepishly. He felt that same rush of tenderness he had felt for her when he saw her and the giant microphone on the band pedestal. He bent over her more, and inwardly groaned when his cock rubbed against her insides. He pressed his lips to her skin, and inhaled deeply. She smelled sweet, like bubble-gum and something else... baby powder.

"You're trembling," he murmured against her ear.

"It's cold..." she mumbled.

Erik nuzzled the unmasked half of his face against his neck and wiggled his fingers beneath her skirt. He knew he found That Spot when she gasped softly and wriggled some more. "If you keep that up, you might not finish," he warned apologetically. "I'm an old man, Christine."

"Just touch me." she whispered. He obeyed and simply teased her clit while slowly building back up to his original tempo; she let out lots of squeals and 'mmm!'s this time. Finally, when he heard her keening moans, he sped up; "Oh please," she whimpered. "May I? Please, please, please!"

Erik grunted and kept thrusting. She squealed and grabbed his hand. "May I?" she breathed. He blinked in confusion. "Wha... oh, God, yes," he muttered. He felt her tighten around him and tense up beneath him.

She collapsed a little, on the sink, and Erik groaned and panted his way to an orgasm. "Whew!" she smiled. "I finished." She wiggled from under him and spun around, so they were chest to chest. He reached down to zip up his fly, but she beat him to it, gently stroking his now limp dick.

"Ahh- oww, Christine, it's sensitive!" he complained when she started playing with it. She giggled; "It's so funny looking!"

He frowned self-consciously. "What do you mean, it's funny looking?" he asked defensively.

She shrugged. "I dunno, it's just funny looking. _I_ don't dangle around like you do. Mine is prettier." she said matter of factly.

Erik laughed and finally zipped himself up. He had never compared privates with a girl before. "You're right, yours is much prettier. You are much prettier than-"

Suddenly, from outside, a loud horn squawked the first touchdown. Cheering and whistling and feet stomping on the bleachers could be heard, and Erik paled nervously. "Shit, I've been gone for-" he glanced down at his watch and paled even more. "Almost twenty minutes! I have to go, right now!"

He shrugged his discarded jacket back on and started fiddling with the doorknob. "Wait, Professor!" Christine called, hastily pulling up her panties. "Take me with you, I want to meet your wife." she smiled hopefully.

Erik frowned and opened the door. "I don't... I don't know, Christine. I don't think that's a good idea." he replied uncomfortably.

She pouted and crossed her arms. "Please?" she asked, batting her eyelashes. He hated it when she did that; there was absolutely no way he could refuse her _anything_ when she did it.

"Fine!" he relented, shooing her out the door. "But you had better be on your best behavior, do you understand me? If Becky finds out about us..."

She ignored him and skipped ahead, running straight up to the snack counter. "Hi-i!" she beamed, batting her eyelashes again at the young man behind the counter. "Well, hello there," the guy smiled back. "What can I do for you? I hope I can do something for you."

She giggled and turned around to Erik who stepped up nervously behind her. She grabbed the list out of his hands and began reading it off loudly. "May I please have... a large Dr. Pepper, a large popcorn..."

The kid had no more time to flirt, he was so busy filling every order. Finally, when he laid everything out on the counter in front of her, she pulled Erik up beside her and looked at him pointedly. "What?" he asked blankly. The guy behind the counter raised his eyebrow at them.

"You have to _pay_," she said in an impatient teenage voice. "_Duh_!"

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry," Erik said hastily, pulling out his wallet. He winced when the guy told him the price, but quickly gave him the bills and shooed Christine away. She tried to help him carry something, but he nervously shook his head and took everything for himself.

"Ok, I've only told her that I 'tutor' you after school some days..." Erik said nervously, leading her up the bleacher stairs. "Zack's never met you, so we don't have to worry about him recognizing you and giving us away..."

"Professor!" Christine rolled her eyes. "You need to take a chill pill. Like, seriously."

He didn't answer, for they were finally within earshot of his little group. Becky still had Zack in her lap and she smiled when she saw Erik trudging up the stairs. "Hey stranger!" she laughed. "It's about time, we were about to send a search party out looking for you!"

Erik smiled and began parceling out everyone's items. "The line was huge," he lied. "There were tons of people."

Melanie nodded sympathetically, and hesitantly looked behind Erik to see Christine smiling brightly and looking at Erik expectantly. "Hi honey... Do you need something?" she asked uncertainly, smiling slightly at Christine.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Erik said quickly. "Becky, Melanie, Dave, this is Christine, one of my students, the one I've been ah, tutoring. I met her down by the snack bar, and offered to introduce her to you all. Christine, this is my wife, Becky, and Melanie, Dave- I mean Professor Green's wife."

Christine beamed (she was in her element among new people, he noticed) and waved. "Hi!" she said brightly. "It's so nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you in class!" This last statement was directed to Becky, who smiled in surprise and looked very taken with the new girl.

"Is that so?" she asked in pleasant surprise, giving Erik a small smile.

Christine nodded vigorously and flounced down on the bleacher step below them. Erik saw Dave eyeing her cheerleader uniform appreciatively and inwardly he let out a little growl. "Oh yes, we hardly learn _any_thing, he's so busy just talking, talking, talking all day about his wife this, his wife that, and his little boy Zack..."

Becky and Melanie laughed and Becky looked at Erik. "Erik, is that true?" she asked with a wide smile.

He laughed nervously. "Of course, Christine wouldn't lie."

"You sing like an angel," Melanie interjected lightly. "That was you singing the National Anthem, wasn't it?"

Christine blushed and fiddled with her skirt shyly. Erik and Dave's eyes were immediately glued to the beautiful white thigh she exposed. "Thank you so much!" she giggled. "I love to sing, I've been singing for longer than I can remember!"

"So how old are you, Christine?" Dave asked casually. Erik shot him a nasty look, but nobody noticed. "I'm seventeen, sir," she giggled flirtatiously. She knew all about him and Jamie...

Becky and Melanie raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other. "Seventeen, you're only a baby!" Becky exclaimed. "When will you be eighteen?"

"In June," Christine sang sweetly. "I'm the youngest in all my classes."

"Aw," the ladies crooned. "What a sweet young lady. You're lucky to have her in your class, Erik!" Melanie said to Erik. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, before he finally smiled tightly and grunted.

"Oh, look!" Becky suddenly pointed. "It looks like they're getting ready for the half time show!"

Christine gasped and flew up. Erik's mouth went dry at the brief sight of her panties again. "Oh no!" she squealed. "I'm supposed to be down there! I'm going to be in big trouble with Coach, I have to go!" she called, squeezing through the bleachers. "It was nice to meet you! Bye Professor!" And she flitted down the stairs like a little black and red butterfly, leaving Erik with his charmed wife.

"Erik, is that the little girl you've been tutoring?" Becky asked as he took his seat next to her. He nodded. "Yes, that's Christine. She's Meg's roommate, the young lady you met earlier." he replied. Becky smiled and patted his knee affectionately. "She's such a sweetheart, I'm glad you're giving her extra help. I wonder if her parents are here..." She scanned the crowd as though she was expecting a couple to come up and announce their parentage.

Erik shrugged noncommittally. "She's never mentioned her parents, I don't know."

"She's very young, isn't she Erik?" Melanie fussed, craning her neck to look down at the cheerleaders. It looked like Christine was getting scolded by her Coach; he was yelling and she had her head and pom poms bowed submissively. "Oh look, poor thing, she's getting in trouble! Erik you should go down there and tell him she was with us, it's not her fault," Melanie said.

"Me?" Erik asked incredulously. "N-no!"

"Erik!" Becky said disapprovingly. "You're going to let that poor little girl get in trouble for nothing?"

"You know, she's not a little girl!" Erik snapped. "She's seventeen, not ten, I think she'll be fine."

Becky looked taken aback. She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "So-rry." she replied, turning back to Melanie. They began speaking in conspiratorial whispers and even threw him a dirty look or two. He scowled and looked at Dave; still staring at the cheerleaders. It looked like Christine was done getting yelled at; her head was still bowed, but now she was slowly walking to the side bench, until he could no longer see her. His stomach rumbled, and he felt bad.

"Why, Erik Destler!" a voice suddenly boomed from behind. Erik and Becky whipped their heads around to see John and Lisa de Chagny approaching slowly. Erik smiled and stood up. "John," he said warmly, shaking his hand. "Lisa, how are you?" He kissed her cheek, and she patted his shoulder fondly.

"Doing wonderful, darling, just wonderful!" Lisa replied, kissing Becky and Melanie. "How _are_ you? How are the children- oh, hello there, Sir!" she beamed as Zack emerged from behind his mother. "How are you, sweetie?"

Zack stuffed his fist in his mouth and hid behind Becky bashfully. Becky rolled her eyes. "Just ignore him, he'll be himself after a few minutes," she confided. Lisa nodded knowingly and turned back to John. "Please, have a seat," Erik offered suddenly, stepping aside to let them pass. They sat down gratefully, and Lisa snuggled closer to John.

"So Erik, you must tell me," Lisa began teasingly. "Raoul. How _is_ my boy doing in your class, hmm? Is he doing his work?"

Erik laughed. "He's doing fine, he's a good boy. I'm not sure if Comparative Literature is really his life's passion..." At this, they all laughed. "But he's doing fine, really."

Lisa sighed in relief and John grunted. "He better!" he said gruffly. "You let me know if he gives you any trouble, you hear? I'll have him benched sooner than he can say 'football', mark my words! Told him he has to have a 3.0 all year, or I'm taking him off the team, I don't care how old he is! Who's paying for college, eh?"

Lisa sighed and patted John's arm. "Yes, yes, dear, calm down. Actually, Erik," she turned back to Erik with gleaming eyes. "I was wondering if you could tell me a little gossip... for the past few weeks, Raoul's been talking nonstop about a girl in your class; said her name was Christine. Do you know her?"

Erik's stomach growled again. Sweat broke out in the small of his back, and an icy gush of wind made his throat suddenly raspy. He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Lisa, the man probably has a thousand Christines!" John scoffed. "How can you expect him to remember just one?"

"Hush! He might know!" Lisa snapped.

"Christine?" Melanie said suddenly. "Oh Erik, isn't that the little girl we just met?"

"Yes! The one you wouldn't help." Becky added.

"Oh, you know her!" Lisa beamed. "Who is she? Please, point her out!"

Becky craned her neck and frowned. "I don't- I don't see her, Erik, do you see her?"

"No." he rasped.

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You didn't even look!" she scolded with a swat on his arm. She stood up slightly, but Christine was nowhere to be found. She shrugged. "Mmm, I don't see her, Lisa. Don't worry, I'm sure she'll show up later on. She is a cheerleader, after all."

"Oh, is she?" Lisa smiled.

"Yes," Becky smiled back knowingly. "And she's very polite and very pretty. You'll like her, Raoul's done a good job."

John let out a booming laugh. "Ha! Raoul's not the the one we have to worry about, is he? It's his _brother_ we've got to keep our eye on!" He shook his head. "None of the other's have given us even half the trouble Philip does. Never let's you sleep, that one."

"Darling, he's thirty two." Lisa murmured, gently patting her husband's arm. "He doesn't live with us anymore."

"So?" John replied. "Doesn't mean he still doesn't give me hypertension! Isn't that what the doctor said, Leesy, isn't it? You know what it was?" This was directed at Erik. Erik gulped and shrugged uncertainly. "I'll tell you what it was! It was the last one he brought home-"

"_Introduced_ us to," Lisa corrected.

"She was- _Vee-nez-waylan_!" he exclaimed in a stage whisper. "Communist! Isn't that right, Lisa? Isn't it! Chavez!"

"Please, darling, don't make a scene," Lisa hushed him. She turned to back to Becky and Melanie and shook her head. "She was actually Port-o Rican, but John's right, she was quite a... quite a..."

"Quite a Communist, that's what!" John bellowed.

"_John_!" Lisa hissed. "Stop it! Anyway..." As she continued to chatter with Becky and Melanie, Erik wearily glanced around the bleachers. He looked next to him and frowned. Dave was gone! The snake had probably slipped away sometime while everyone was talking, leaving Erik behind. He frowned and looked around some more... then groaned. The one person who could possibly make his evening even more stressful was currently making his way up the steps.

"Hey, hey, hey, Alley-Cat!" A British accent called. Erik groaned and the rest of the party looked up. It was Nadir, looking very cozy with a washed up Brigitte Bardot look-a-like. They walked up the stairs until they were standing right in front of John and Lisa. John glanced at Nadir's sandaled feet and recoiled.

"How's it kickin, Baby Doll?" Nadir greet Becky. She smiled widely and waved up at him. "Hi Nadir," she laughed. "How are you?"

"The Universe is in tune." He responded by way of explanation. He raised his eyebrow at the Chagnys and Becky's eyes widened. "Oh, excuse me! Nadir, and um," She smiled at his companion uncertainly. "Yvette." The blonde smiled cooly. "Right, Nadir, Yvette, this is John and Lisa de Chagny; John, Lisa, Nadir's an old friend of Erik's." Becky said.

Lisa smiled uncertainly and John merely grunted. "Good to meet you." he muttered, still looking at Nadir's feet.

"Right back atcha, Daddy-o," Nadir sniffed. Erik seemed to be avoiding his gaze; that was alright. Nadir wasn't a fool, you know.

"And where are you from?" Lisa asked stiffly, her smile still plastered on.

"Iran." Nadir replied sweetly. At the brief look of horror Lisa and John exchanged, he plastered a smile on as well. "Don't worry," he crooned. "I've heard of the Holocaust."

Becky burst out laughing. Even Erik surreptitiously cracked a grin. Melanie, Lisa and John, however, failed to see the humor. "Well, it was a _pleasure_ meeting you all," Nadir smiled. "But now we must be on our way. Toodoloo! See you on Monday, Erik, dahling!" And he and Yvette trotted back down the stairs.

Erik leaned back and sighed. Christine was nowhere to be found. He was ready to go home.


	10. The Morning After

"Chris-_teen_!" Meg called as she walked through the door. Sauna slammed it behind her. "It smells like sex in here- a_gain_!"

"Mmmm..." Christine mumbled. Her head was buried under her pillow and her polka-dot blanket covered rump was arched like a little hill in the bed. "Meg..." she whispered thickly. "Shhhh..."

"No, don't tell me to shhh!" Meg said angrily. "Wake up, it's almost one o clock! Come on, come on," she walked to Christine's bed and yanked the covers down. Christine squealed and tried to claw them back, but it was useless. "Meg..." she whimpered, covering herself with her pillows. "It's cold..."

"Look at you! You're still naked!" Meg exclaimed. "Christine, don't you have homework to do?"

"I'm _not_ naked." Christine muttered. She buried her head again and wiggled her bottom in Meg's direction. "See? I'm wearing panties."

Meg sighed angrily and walked over to the window. "Christine, it stinks in here. You know, this is my room too! Why don't you ever go to their rooms?" She opened the window and a cool breeze blew in. Christine moaned and clutched the pillows tighter. Sauna chuckled to herself and threw the blanket back over her; Christine purred in delight. "Thank you." she whispered conspiratorially.

"Hey!" Meg called. She looked at Sauna, who was struggling to hide her chuckling and Christine, who looked like she was already asleep. "Why did you do that?" Meg asked Sauna impatiently. "She's never going to wake up!"

"Oh Meg, it's Sunday!" Sauna shrugged helplessly. "Look at her, isn't she cute? I can't resist... Let her sleep, ma biche." She winked as she said the last part, and Meg sighed. "Christine, how are you going to pass your classes if you don't do your work?" Meg asked wearily.

Christine shrugged under the blankets and giggled. "I _do_ do my work." she called sleepily. "I have an A in Comp Lit now!"

Meg frowned. "Weren't you failing that class like, last month?"

"Mmmhmm." Christine sniffed. "I started studying!"

"Yeah, sure you did." Meg scoffed. "So who was it last night, Christine?"

Christine suddenly turned around and sat up excitedly. "My _boyfriend_," she said proudly. "Raoul. He asked me out last night!"

Sauna smiled and tilted her head. "Awww, how sweet!" she said. "Is he on the football team?"

Christine nodded. "Uh-huh. He had to meet them, that's why he's not here now. He left around..." She furrowed her brow and wrinkled her nose. "Mmm... I don't know when he left... He definitely woke me up though!" She blushed and giggled a little. "No one's ever woken me up like _that_ before!"

Sauna's eyebrows went up and her jaw dropped. "Oh-oh!" she exclaimed. "Oh my; Meg, have you ever been woken up like that before?"

Meg cocked an eyebrow and slumped on her bed. "That's why I switched to girls. Nope, never, not even when I did boys. Which one is Raoul?"

"Well, he's the big blonde one," Christine sighed dreamily...

_"Where the hell were you?" Coach demanded. He looked around at the people staring, grabbed her elbow roughly and dragged her behind the big smelly dumpster. "Look at this; do you see this? This is homecoming night, Missy. You do not just run off like that!"_

_Christine fiddled with her pom-poms nervously. "I'm sorry, Coach," she said to his chest. "I didn't realize how long I was gone, I promise I won't do it again..._

_"You're damn right you won't!" he snapped. "You wanna be a slut on your own time? I don't give a damn! But you will not be a slut on my time, got it?" He pushed her against the dumpster angrily and she tripped and fell on the dirt. Her eyes welled up with tears and her lower lip started to wobble. "Ouch." she whispered, clutching her pom-poms tightly._

_"Ouch? Ouch is going to be next practice, when I work you out harder than you've ever worked out before!" he yelled. "I will not tolerate this on my squad, do you understand me? Get up!" He reached down and grabbed her elbows; she squeaked in fright. "I said, do you understand me?" he demanded, pushing her against the dumpster again._

_She nodded quickly and bit her lip._

_"Hey!" A voice suddenly called from the other side of the dumpster. "What's going on back there?" The voice came closer and suddenly sounded surprised. "Christine?" Raoul asked. "Is that you?"_

_"Raoul!" she gasped. She squirreled out from under Coach's arm and ran to his side. She grabbed his hand and halfheartedly hid behind his enormous red shoulder pads. "Hey, Chrissy, you ok?" he asked in concern, eyeing Coach warily._

_She said nothing but nodded into his back. "Coach?" Raoul called. "Is that you?"_

_"Raoul!" Coach smiled and nodded gruffly. "How's it going, son?" He stepped closer, into the stadium lights and Christine instinctively took a step back. Raoul grabbed her hand and nodded back at Coach. "Doing just fine, sir, how about you?" he replied uneasily._

_"Oh, you know," Coach smiled. "I was just giving Missy here a little lecture about being on time! She's been gone for almost forty five minutes, on homecoming night!" He threw Christine a deadly stare and she hid behind Raoul even more._

_"Oh, yeah?" Raoul replied. "Well just watch it, sir, Christine's really delicate, you know? She doesn't need any roughing up." He swallowed, but stared the older man down._

_Coach narrowed his eyes and grunted. "Of course," he said. "She just needs to learn to be responsible. See you next practice." He clapped Raoul on the shoulder and slowly walked away, but not before throwing Christine another nasty look._

_"Hey, Chrissy, are you alright?" Raoul asked once he was gone. He took both of her hands and looked at her with puppy dog eyes. She avoided them and nodded. "Yes," she mumbled softly. He frowned and tilted her chin up. "Hey," he murmured. "Come on."_

_She shrugged and her eyes welled up again. "I fell down," she sniffled, avoiding his eyes again and blinking quickly._

_"How'd you fall?" Raoul asked in concern._

_She shrugged again and wiggled into his arms. "My butt hurts," she whimpered. He laughed softly and hugged her. "Oh man, that sucks. Are you ok?"_

_She nodded. And wiggled closer. "Shouldn't you be playing?" she whispered with big eyes. Raoul groaned and batted his eyelashes at her. "Did you really have to remind me?" he complained playfully. She giggled and kissed his cheek. "Well, shouldn't you?" she asked uncertainly._

_He sighed. "Coach benched me. I missed too many practices, so I'm benched for the next two games. I'm lucky he kept me on the team at all. I haven't told my parents, my dad would keel over if I did;" he explained sadly._

_"Oh," she replied softly. "I'm sorry... Why didn't you go to practice?"_

_Raoul grinned sheepishly. "You promise you won't think I'm weird?" He asked. She nodded with big eyes. "Of course," she whispered._

_"I've been smoking joints with Professor Khan." he admitted. Her mouth opened slightly in uncertainty, but Raoul beamed and kissed her before she could say anything. "He's so cool!" he continued excitedly. "Christine, I'm serious, the man is a genius! I went to guidance and they were able to put me in his class last minute, isn't that awesome?"_

_"Y-yes-" she stammered with another uncertain smile. "But-"_

_"Oh Christine," he sighed, squeezing her hands. "It's all bullshit, you know what I mean?" She nodded slowly; she didn't know. He continued oblivious. "I mean- this whole world is such bullshit- all my parents' money, and their golf, and country clubs, and Polo suits... fuck, even the football team!" His eyes were sparkling. "But this guy knows. He knows what's up, man. He knows. And he's got some good stuff," he winked at this last statement and pulled her closer. "He said he could hook me up, you and me can do it together!"_

_She finally grinned widely and nodded. "Ok!" she giggled. "I've never done it before."_

_He kissed her temple. "It's fun, trust me." They were silent for a moment, until Raoul broke away and suddenly turned shy. "Hey, Christine?" he asked uncertainly._

_"Yeah?" she was busying giving him a hickey. He pulled away and grabbed her hands. "I have to ask you something." he said solemnly. She swallowed and nodded. "Yes..." she said uneasily._

_"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked seriously. "Like, officially?"_

_She exhaled loudly and started laughing. "Yes!" she beamed. "Of course I will!"_

_"Really?" he asked eagerly. "I like you so much, Chrissy. I've never liked someone as much as I like you..." Her pupils were dilated; if there was more oxygen in his brain, he would be embarrassed about his reaction, but he didn't have it in him. She was so. Hot._

_He moaned and pushed her against the dumpster. She kissed him and slipped her tongue between his lips and her fingers through his hair. "Oh, Raoul..." she sighed happily. "Do you wanna come to my room? After the game?"_

_He lowered his head to her neck and squeezed her butt. "Hell yeah." He groaned._

"Oh yeah, definitely, I remember. The big blonde one," Meg said sarcastically. "Because he stood out so much from the rest of the predominantly white football team."

Christine giggled and looked out the window dazedly. "I don't think you met him." she said loftily. "He was with me most of the night. I'm going to go call him now!" She announced, flouncing off to the bathroom in nothing but panties and a cami top she found on the floor.

Sauna smiled. "She's in love."

Meg rolled her eyes. "She's in _lust_."

Erik's hand crept around Becky's waist and gently tickled her. She forced a smile, and gently pushed his hand away. He tried again, and even pressed a kiss to her neck, but she just scrunched it up and shrunk away from him. "Erik, no." she said.

"Come on..." he persuaded. "Zack's sleeping, he's not going to wake up. Come to bed with me."

"Erik, it's two o clock in the afternoon!" she insisted, flipping channels.

"So? Who cares, come on..." His hand slipped under her blouse, but she frowned and slapped it away. "No!" she snapped. "Erik, this is _my_ time for myself. I'm comfortable here, I'm watching TV. Leave me alone!"

He snatched his hand away and angrily ran his fingers through his hair. "Damn it, Becky, it's _always_ 'your time.' What about our time?" he asked angrily. "I have needs too, you know!"

"Erik, I'm _tired_. Maybe you don't understand- I work all day, and then I have to take care of Zack. The weekend is the only time I have to myself!"

"It's always what you decide," he snapped. "You think I don't work? We never have sex!"

Her jaw dropped. "What do you _mean_, we never have sex? What was the other day, when Zack was at my mother's?" she asked angrily. "You're just being selfish."

"Once a week is not a healthy sex life!" he yelled. From upstairs, crying could suddenly be heard. "Shit," he muttered.

"Thanks a lot." she snapped, walking past him angrily and jogging up the stairs. After a moment, it was silent, and Erik sighed. He felt so stifled all of a sudden; like the house was suddenly closing in on him, Pit and Pendulum style, and he had nowhere to escape to.

Silent.

_Silent._

RING!

Erik jumped and swore. It was so unexpected, the house was so very very silent... he had muted the TV after Becky left. He heard her swear upstairs as well; the phone must've woken up Zack. He quickly crossed the room to answer it and avoid his wife's wrath.

"I got it!" he called. She didn't answer; he assumed she was still trying to settle down Zack. "Hello, Destler residence," he said monotonously.

"Hiya!"

His heart fastened on a harness and suddenly went bungee jumping through his body. Was there still oxygen in his lungs? He doubted it.

"Chris-tine?" he croaked in a whisper. "Is that you?"

"Ya! You remember me, right Professor?" she giggled. "Whatcha doing?"

"Oh my God. Christine, I'm going to hang up right now, and you are never to call me again, do you understand?" he hissed in terror, periodically glancing back at the stairs. "Are you out of your _mind_? What if my _wife_ answered?"

"Well, she didn't..." Christine muttered dejectedly. "Please don't hang up, I want to talk to you..."

"Christine, I can't!" He cried in a hushed voice. "Do you understand me? My wife is upstairs right now, I have to _go_!"

"But-"

"NO!" He hissed.

"Erik?" Becky called from upstairs. "Who is it?"

"Uh...," he covered the mouthpiece and stuffed his fist in his mouth. "It's uh, uh... John, he wants to go golfing. Is Zack asleep?"

Suddenly, Becky's voice was right behind him. She walked past the living room and into the kitchen. "No," she called back impatiently. "Now he's being fussy; I'm going to make him a bottle. Tell John to say hi to Lisa for me."

"Right." Erik squeaked. He waited for Becky to go back upstairs and then turned back to the situation at hand. "Right, Christine," he hissed. "How did you get this number?"

"I looked you up." She informed him. "In the phone book. No one else wants to talk to me, so I decided to call you. Except now you don't want to talk to me either..." Somewhere, in the deep recesses of Erik's mind, he heard a tragic solo violin playing... He could practically see her moping in her little bed, playing with her Barbie dolls all by herself... despite himself, he was terribly moved.

"Alright, alright..." he thought quickly. "Here's my cell number; call me in twenty minutes, ok? _Twenty _minutes, exactly, got it?"

She was still copying down his cell phone number. He tapped his foot nervously and kept glancing at the stairs. "Christine, did you hear me?" he asked anxiously. "Twenty minutes, not a second earlier, not a second later, do you understand?"

"Twenty minutes, mmhmm, yup, got it," Christine replied happily. "Twenty minutes! Are you going to call me?"

"NO!" he cried. "You're going to call me! In twenty minutes, ok?"

"Right!" she cried, slapping a palm against her forehead. "That's what I meant, I really was paying attention, Professor, I promise-"

"Ok, ok, I believe you," he said quickly. "Twenty minutes. I have to go now; good-bye." He hung up and slowly brought a hand to his chest. His heart was beating at a revoltingly fast pace. He desperately prayed to the heart attack God that he did not have a heart attack, at least not in twenty minutes, because then Becky would be forced to pick up the phone.

He looked around the room wildly; where was his phone? He found it, buried in the cushions, and then bounded upstairs. "Becky, I-" he began.

She held up her hand angrily; she was clutching a glass thermometer. "I really don't want to hear it, Erik." she snapped. "We can work out our issues later; right now, I need you to go to the store and pick up some Children's cough syrup. Zacky has a fever. Can you do that?"

"Wh-what... go to the store? Of course," he said faintly. He slowly turned to walk out of the room and nodded once more at Becky. "I'll just... go and get that, then. Is there anything else you need?"

She sighed and wiped her brow with the back of her palm. "Actually," she muttered, following him downstairs and into the kitchen. "Since you're going, you might as well pick up some stuff for me too. Here-" she handed him a medium shopping list and started back for the stairs. "Don't take too long, please," she called.

He nodded in a daze. "Of course not." He mumbled.


	11. Grocery Shopping and Secret Meetings

As soon as Erik got into the car and left the driveway, he pulled out his cellphone and called Christine. Thank God he remember to erase the number from his house phone and add it to his cell. She answered on the third or fourth ring; he strummer his fingers on the steering wheel anxiously.

"You told me to call you!" she cried. "I have seven minutes left!"

He couldn't help laughing. Sweet Christine. Unfailingly obedient. "I know, I know, but I left to get some groceries for my wife. I'm in the car now."

"Groceries!" she exclaimed. "Can I come?"

He glanced at his watch. "Christine, I have to get this stuff and go back home. My son has a fever, honey, I can't stay out."

"Oh." she sighed sadly. "No one's around, no one wants to hang out with me. It's so lonely here."

Erik tensed up. He had come to recognize the feeling that was overtaking him. It was the feeling he got just before Christine somehow, subliminally convinced him to do something stupid and foolhardy. And even though he knew the best thing to do was follow the advice he had given Alex all her life- just say no- it was impossible. He couldn't let poor, dear, Christine be lonely in her dorm room, now could he?

No, he most certainly couldn't.

"Well..." he began. He glanced at his watch. "I can get the groceries quickly, drop them off, and then... say I have work to do, on campus. Is that alright?"

She squealed loudly in his ear. He winced, and held the phone away. "Ooh, yes!" she exclaimed. Then suddenly she gasped. "Oh no..."

He frowned. "What? What, 'oh no'?"

"Meg will be back soon..." she moaned. "Her class gets out at four, we can't stay in my room."

"Hmm." Erik glanced at the car clock. He parked next to a shiny red Acura and turned the car off. "That's a problem."

Christine gasped loudly. "What!" Erik yelled. He clutched his heart. "Christine, you can't _do_ that! I'm _old_, do you understand that? I could _die_!" She was silent, and he imagined her lowering her head and biting her lip submissively. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I wasn't trying to make you die, I promise."

"I know dear." he sighed. "What is it?"

"I know a place we can go!" she exclaimed in excitement. "It's perfect, we can stay as long as you want, no one will see us!"

He arched an eyebrow warily and checked his watch again. It was almost four o clock now. "Are you sure?" he asked slowly.

"Positive. Will you meet me there?" The perpetual giggle in her voice was back, and he couldn't help smiling. "Yes, I will. I'll call you when I'm on my way, alright? Don't call me!"

She laughed. "You'll meet me?"

"Yes- Christine, do not call me! Do you understand?"

"Bye Professor!" Giggle; _click._

"Oh, Christine..." Erik sighed, slowly setting his phone down. "What am I doing?"

Erik was never a grocery store kind of man. He usually... no, _always_ left the food shopping to Becky, as well as the cooking, the entertaining, etc. It was her major, after all, and her job. Becky was The Cook of the house, and that was that. On the rare occasion he was sent on a food related errand however, he was meticulous in his shopping, making sure he followed Becky's instructions and shopping lists to the T, and always making a point to call her if he was unsure of something. Becky was universally easy going, but he had learned in twenty six years of marriage never to cross her when it came to food.

Which was why he unconsciously shuddered and held his breath as the cashier dully rang up the hastily chosen, store brand mish mosh of groceries he had selected. He had never gone through his errands so fast in his life. At least not in his married life, which sometimes felt like the only life he had ever lived.

"Twenty two dollars and sixteen cents," drawled the cashier. She popped her gum and plastered a 'welcome to Walmart, how may I help you' smile on her face. Erik gulped at the price; even when buying just one item, it was rarely that inexpensive. He blanched at the thought of Becky's reaction when she saw what he had bought.

"Thank you, good-bye," he said hastily, paying and grabbing the bags. It sounded more like 'thankyougoobye. He walked to his car quickly and glanced at the time. Four fifteen. He checked his cell phone and broke out into a sweat. One missed call- Becky. With trembling fingers, he dialed her and drove out of the parking lot.

"Erik! Where are you?" Becky's voice demanded, weary and impatient. Zack was crying in the background.

"Hi Becky," Erik said quickly. "I- uh, I'm almost home, there was a huge line at the store, and the parking lot was packed, and-"

"Erik, just hurry home, Zack is making a mess, he won't stop crying-" She paused and sucked in a wavery breath. "And you're just taking your time, when your son is _sick_-"

"Yes, I know," he snapped, suddenly irritable. "I'm coming! And I have to go to school tonight, I have some papers that have to be graded before Monday." He frowned at his reflection and checked the time again. It was slowly ticking away, away, away...

"School! Again!" she exclaimed. "Fine, whatever, I'll deal with Zack, like _always- _can I at least know what time you'll be home? Should I make dinner tonight? Can you communicate with me please?"

"I don't _know_ what time I'll be home, Becky!" he yelled. "Stop nagging me!" And with a quick, bitter '_click_' he snapped the phone shut and tossed it on the passenger's seat. Becky could be such a _nag_ sometimes! Always asking him endless questions, sending him on errands, he never had any time to breathe or do something for himself.

He took a deep breath and smiled. Christine was something he could do by himself.

"It's about goddamn time!" Meg bellowed, shoving past Christine and slamming the bathroom door behind her. "What the hell were you _doing_ in here? I gotta pee!"

Christine bit her lip and widened her eyes in surprise. "I'm sorry, Meg, I didn't mean to-"

"I almost peed in your bed, Christine!" Meg called from the toilet. "Ahhh..."

Christine wrinkled her nose in disgust and turned to Sauna. "No she didn't!" she exclaimed nervously. "Right?"

Sauna laughed and rolled her eyes. "Why do you bother her so much, mm, chérie? You know she's already upset about the... smell."

"Well, I didn't _mean_ to," Christine sniffed. She walked to her bureau and started riffling through bras and panties. "And it _doesn't_ smell bad in here! I don't smell anything, Meg!" She cried the last sentence in the direction of the bathroom.

"Because you're so damned accustomed to it!" Meg yelled back, washing her hands and rolling her eyes at the mirror. "You're desensitized, Christine! It's disgusting, and I'm sick of it!"

"Well, I don't know what that means, but it doesn't sound very nice!" Christine yelled back, uncertainly twisting a see through pair of baby blue panties in her hands. She turned to Sauna and pouted. "She's so _mean _sometimes!" she whispered.

"I heard that!" Meg snapped, storming out of the bathroom. "Maybe if you studied more and slept around less, you would know what I said, Christine!"

Christine pouted more and her eyes dropped to the floor uncertainly. "I do study," she insisted with a faint sniffle. "I have an A in English."

"Don't try to tell me that's from studying, Christine," Meg scoffed, picking up a pair of dirty socks from the floor. She threw them in the hamper and rolled her eyes. "I met your teacher last night; do you know he has a wife and a baby?"

Christine blinked quickly and kept twisting the panties. "I- I-" she stammered softly.

"How many other teachers do you have this arrangement with, hmm?" Meg taunted. "Real life isn't like this Christine. You can't just sleep your way through it. They're just going to _drop_ you when someone else comes along, you know."

Christine's eyes filled up and Sauna recognized it before Meg had the chance; it wasn't just _a_ pout. It was The Pout. "Oh, naajo," she crooned quickly. "Come here, she didn't mean it. Come here, come here," She stood up and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl. "Shh, don't cry, naajo, don't cry."

Christine buried her face in Sauna's collar bone and started to cry quietly. "I do study," she whimpered. "I do, sometimes."

"I know you do, we all know you do. She's just mad, don't listen to her, ok?"

Christine burst out into tears again and covered her face with her hands. "She's mean to me!" she wailed accusingly.

Sauna glanced over her shoulder and glared at Meg. Meg spluttered wordlessly and frowned. "What?" she mouthed angrily.

"You hurt her feelings!" Sauna mouthed back reprovingly. "Why do you have to be so mean?"

"I'm not being mean!" she hissed. "I'm telling the truth!"

Christine heard her angry hiss and started crying again. "It's not true! I didn't do anything with Professor Destler, I didn't do anything, why would you say that? I..." she followed Sauna onto her bed and dropped her head into the older girl's lap. "I don't feel very good," she whispered. "I- I-" She suddenly jumped up, ran to the bathroom, and retched violently in the toilet.

Meg and Sauna's eyes widened in alarm, and Meg balked at Sauna's deadly stare. "What?" she held up her hands defensively. "Everyone caters to her, she's not a little kid! I was just telling the truth, this is my room too! She needs to have a little consideration!"

"She is little, Meg!" Sauna snapped in a hushed voice. "Up here, you see?" She rapped on her own skull and frowned. "She's sensitive!"

Meg pouted. "Whatever."

"Go apologize." Sauna ordered, listening to Christine throw up some more. She twisted her face in disgust and sympathy. "You made her _sick_."

"I'm not apologizing. I _always_ have to apologize to her. It's not right." Meg insisted. She crossed her arms across her chest and cocked a challenging eyebrow at her girlfriend.

Sauna shrugged and stood up. "Fine. Be an infant, Meg. That poor little girl..."

"She's seventeen years old!" Meg hissed.

"Sauna..." Christine moaned from the bathroom. She was resting her cheek on the toilet seat and playing with the ends of her hair. Sauna stood up quickly and bent down nest to her. She whispered something in her ear and Christine mumbled something back. Sauna tilted her head and gently stroked Christine's curly hair, then stood up and turned the shower. She patted Christine's head again, then turned and closed the door behind her.

Meg frowned suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"We're plotting against you, Meg!" Sauna snapped. "You can be so immature sometimes."

"_I'm_ immature?" Meg spluttered. "What about Miss Suzy Sunshine in there? Second star to the right, straight on till goddamn morning?"

Sauna shook her head wearily. "Meg, just stop. Just be nice to her. Why can't you be nice to her?"

"I _am_ nice to her!" Meg insisted. "You haven't known her as long as I have, you don't get it! She's a big baby! Do you think I wanted to room with her and change her diapers and feed her when she's cranky? Noooo! That's why I became a lesbian in the first place, to avoid the kid thing!"

Sauna chuckled softly and cocked an eyebrow. "Oh really? I thought you were struck by my African goddess-like beauty," she teased.

Meg tilted her head and grinned. "Oh come on, baby, I was a lesbian long before I met you."

"Liar," Sauna purred, dropping her lanky form next to Meg's on the bed. "It was all me, I know it was."

Meg pretended to think and tapped her forehead. "Well... maybe... just a little bit. I think it was the accent that got me-"

"And the hair-" Sauna interrupted.

"And the skin-" Meg continued. "You're my complete opposite, Iman. That's why I loooove you." She giggled and tickled Sauna's side. Sauna turned and kissed her. "So what's up with Lolita?" Meg murmured, burrowing her face in Sauna's neck.

"She's taking a shower," Sauna replied. "She just asked me to turn it on for her. Be nice when she gets out, ok? I know you must get weary of her, but she doesn't mean any harm, chérie, she really doesn't. She reminds me of my sister," she added thoughtfully.

"Really?" Meg asked softly, resting her head on her arms. "In Senegal?"

"Yes," Sauna mused. "They're both so childlike-"

"Child_ish_." Meg muttered.

"And so innocent. I can't imagine either of them ever living by themselves," she sighed. "Poor thing. Where are her parents? I've never asked her." She turned her head to look at Meg, but right at the same moment the bathroom door opened and an brand new Christine stepped out.

"Hi-i-i!" she said brightly, skipping to her bed and grabbing a loose piece of ribbon. She hastily tied it into a head band and shook her curls over the bed. Meg groaned when the little droplets of water splashed her face, but Christine didn't notice.

"Meg, what's the weather like?" she asked clinging to her wet towel.

Meg furrowed her brow and blinked slowly. "Uh... it's like, in the sixties. Why, are you going out? Weren't you just sick?"

"I feel better!" Christine beamed. "Can I wear a dress?"

Despite the supreme oddness of the situation, Meg distractedly shook her head. "It's going to be pretty chilly to wear a dress, babe, especially if your hair's wet. Wear some jeans. And wait, where are you going?" she demanded.

"I'm going to take a walk!" she giggled, picking out a bra and panties.

"A walk?" Meg scoffed. "Yeah, right, with who?"

"No one..." Christine waffled, shimmying into her panties under the towel. Sauna let out a muffled laugh from behind Meg. "Mama!" she teased the blonde.

"You, shut up." Meg sniffed. "Christine, are you sure you're alright?" she asked suspiciously.

"Of _course_ I'm alright," Christine rolled her eyes. "Why _wouldn't_ I be alright?" Suddenly she gasped. "What time is it?"

"Almost five, naajo," Sauna called, glancing at her watch. "Four forty five."

Christine's eyes widened and she slapped her hands to her cheeks. "Uh oh!" she exclaimed. "I'm going to be late!"

"For your ah... walk with no one?" Meg raised an eyebrow.

"I'll see you guys later!" she called, pulling a pink sweatshirt over her head. She slipped her shoes on, grabbed her purse, and flitted out the door without another look behind her.

"... Is it just me," Meg asked uncertainly, "Or is Christine the only person who can actually 'flit'?"

Sauna stared at the door dumbly and nodded. "You're right."

"So what's this place you're taking me to?" Erik teased as Christine climbed into the car. She beamed and kissed his square on the nose, almost knocking his mask off in the process. He grabbed it fearfully and nervously kept his hand glued to his face as she continued to kiss him obliviously. "Somewhere quiet," she giggled, reaching over and tickling his midriff. He jerked and tried to avoid her hands but she refused to stop. "And pretty," she continued thoughtfully, nipping his ear playfully.

He couldn't help but smile, even as a rain-cloud floated over his heart and began drizzling. Christine was so bubbly, so lively, so full of energy... so young. She made him feel twenty years younger just by looking at her, and each time he felt it, he wanted it a little bit more.

"Ok. So it's quiet and pretty," he said. "Lead the way, my dear. Where to?"

"Umm..." she bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "It's... that way." She pointed in a vague direction, and promptly sat down with a big happy grin on her face. "Hi, Professor!" she sang, teasing her fingers up his thigh. "Miss me?"

He took her hand and gently put it on the armrest between them. "Very much," he replied solemnly. "And you?"

"Of course I missed you, silly!" she squealed. Suddenly her eyes widened. "Omigod, guess what!" she exclaimed happily.

He widened his eyes as well. "Oh my God, what?" he laughed.

"I have a boyfriend!" she said excitedly. She grabbed his thigh and beamed. "Isn't that cool? He asked me last night!"

Erik's face fell and he grunted. "You have a boyfriend now." It wasn't a question; he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and clenched his jaw. "Oh."

She saw his expression and her face fell as well. "Professor?" she said uncertainly. "Are you mad?"

"Of course not. Why would I be mad?" he said shortly. He was silent for a moment. "What's his name?"

"Raoul!" she grinned. "From class, isn't that funny? He asked me under the bleachers at the football game, and I said yes! Look, he gave me his class rin- well, I thought I had it," she muttered, looking though her purse. "I must've left it in the room... I hope it's in the room..."

"You're dating my student." Erik deadpanned.

She bit her lip and blinked. "Uh... yeah. Yes, yes, yes. Hey, isn't that funny?" she giggled. "We're both your students!"

"Haha."

"Professor..." she whined, massaging his thigh. "You're mad at me... please don't be mad at me..."

"Why are we doing this, Christine?" he asked. "I don't understand, if you have a boyfriend, you seem ecstatic about him, why are you still seeing me?"

She blinked. "Because I like you." she said, like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Don't you like me?"

He opened his mouth and then quickly shut it. "Well I- I- of course, I like you, Christine," he said softly. "But doesn't... what we're doing... what about Raoul? I mean, I like a lot of people, but that doesn't mean I engage in- it doesn't mean I'm..." he swallowed and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "_Intimate_ with them all."

She wrinkled her nose and cocked her head. "If you like someone, you give them a kiss." she said plainly, leaning forward and kissing him. "Kiss."

He puckered his lips quickly and allowed a peck before turning back to the road sullenly. "Ooh, ooh, wait, turn here!" she exclaimed suddenly. She pointed to a small sign on the side of the road announcing a wildlife park. "This is it," she beamed, squeezing his thigh.

He turned and looked down the road warily. "A national park, Christine? Where are you taking me?"

She giggled and tickled his side again. She was so touchy feely, he noticed. He couldn't help it; he thought it was sweet. He smiled and grabbed her hand. "Stop tickling me!" he insisted, bringing her hand to his mouth. He pretended to bite it and she squealed loudly.

"Stop that!" she giggled. She pointed through a grove of trees. "Look, it's that way. See? No one comes here, ever. It's all alone."

"How did you find this place?" he asked with mild interest. There was a small wooden cabin ahead. He frowned warily, but she nodded and pointed to it. "You know Professor Bird?" she asked with a mischievous little smile. Erik looked at her in disbelief and nodded wearily. "Yes, I know Professor Bird," he said hoarsely. "My daughter went to school with his son."

"He took me on a Biology field trip here once!" she said happily.

"What... _kind_ of a Biology field trip was it?" he gulped. "Do I want to know?"

She grinned, bit her lip, and shook her head.

He closed his eyes and nodded. "Ok." he breathed. "That's ok, I can live with that. Don't ask, don't tell, don't ask, don't... Jesus Christ, Christine, that man is older than me!" he exclaimed in disgust.

"He has a little pee pee." she said matter of factly. "Stop here!" She unbuckled her seat belt and tried to open the door; it was locked. She frowned and tried again, but she couldn't find the lock. He sighed and reached over her to open it. She smiled and kissed his mask. "Thank you!" she sang.

He followed her and locked the car behind them uneasily. It looked like they were in the middle of a forest or something; huge trees surrounded them, and a little stream trickled nearby. Christine skipped right up to the log cabin and peered inside. "Empty!" she called triumphantly, turning to him with a big smile on her face.

He frowned and followed her to the door. "What is this?" he asked.

She fumbled in her pockets and pulled out a bobby pin. "It's the old visitor center," she said, jiggling the lock. "Professor Bird had the key. He said no one ever comes here anymore because there's no more big animals. Ooh, I got it!" she said happily, swinging the door open. She stepped in, and Erik followed. It was a small little house like building; there was a main room with an old desk and some chairs, what looked like a kitchen, a bathroom, and another room in the back.

"That's where we're going," she purred, taking his hand and leading him to the back. She opened the door and revealed a pull out couch... already pulled out. There was an old TV in the corner and some more uncomfortable looking chairs he had seen in the main room. "Professor..." she whispered all big eyes and sweetness. "Kiss me?"

"Of course," he breathed weakly. How could he refuse those eyes anything? He couldn't; he thought about sick Zacky and stressed out Becky and grown up Alex, and he kissed her harder. She made a little noise and sat down on the couch; it creaked loudly. He looked down at her and paused. She looked so young, always, like a little kid. She was wearing a cotton candy pink sweatshirt, jeans, and cute little ballet flats.

He sank down to his knees and groaned when they creaked louder than the couch. He would ignore them, for now; ignore the signs of his age and pretend he belonged with someone like Christine, young, and beautiful, and bubbly. He bent his head into her lap and kissed her hands, her legs, her forearms, anything he could kiss, he kissed. "You're so beautiful," he moaned. "You're perfect, Christine, perfect." And then, looking up into her face with the big eyes, button nose and round cheeks, he moaned again, "Oh God, you're so young, honey... you're just a kid..."

"Kiss me." she smiled again and pulled off her sweatshirt. She was wearing a T-shirt that would fit Zack, and no bra, once again. His dick hardened when he saw her nipples through the fabric, even as he was trying to calculate how many times he could multiply her age before reaching his.

"Why don't you ever wear a bra?" he teased, pushing her back gently. She laid her head on the bed and giggled when he kissed her tummy. "I do too!" she insisted. "I did the other day..."

"I think you want boys to see your nipples," he murmured huskily. He touched the waistband of her jeans and unbuttoned and unzipped her. "Is that true? You like to tease boys with your nipples?"

She blushed and wriggled as he touched her panties inside of her jeans. "No..." she whispered. "I'm a good girl."

"Liar," he whispered, even softer than her. "You're a bad, bad girl."

"I'm a bad girl," she repeated softly. "I'm sorry I've been bad," she murmured. "I'll try to be good again... I want to be a good girl." She had started to tremble; his face softened and he pressed his forehead against her naked thigh. She touched his hair gently and he moaned.

"You're the sweetest girl I've ever met," he whispered. He pulled off her panties and kissed the skin above her vulva, then slowly worked his way down. She squealed and giggled when his tongue found her clitoris. "Pro_fes_sor!" she exclaimed. "You're tickling me!"

He looked up and smiled and she blushed. "You taste like heaven." he declared. "I've never tasted anything better."

She cocked her head and furrowed her brow. "What about Mrs. Becky?" she asked.

His tongue froze and he frowned. "My _wife_?" he demanded. She nodded innocently. "Do you do this with her?" she sounded genuinely curious.

Erik grunted and moved his mouth away from her vagina. "No. We don't do this." he said shortly. He thought of Becky and his erection deflated a little bit. Christine frowned and purred insistently, pushing her crotch back to his face. "Don't stop..." she whined. He obliged and dipped his tongue inside of her; she bit her lip and raised her hips a little more. Just as his dick came back to its former hardness, she doused another bucket of ice on it.

"Why don't you kiss Mrs. Becky?" Christine wondered.

"I do kiss her!" Erik snapped, panting and moving back again. "She's my wife!"

"Not her kitty-cat..." she sang in a whisper.

Erik closed his eyes and rested his hands on her knees. "Not her _what_?" he asked quietly.

"Her kitty-cat." Christine said plaintively, scooting up and looking at him innocently. "You know," she smiled shyly and pointed between her spread legs. "That. You said you don't kiss it. Why?"

"Christine-" he sighed and adjusted himself. His knees creaked in protest. "I- this is a very awkward conversation for me to have. Do you understand that?" She responded with A Blank Stare. He sighed again. "You have to understand that... not everyone likes the same things, sweetheart, and Becky just happens to not be particularly partial to oral sex-" She furrowed her brow and blinked. He had lost her. "She doesn't like getting her kitty-cat licked." He finished bluntly.

Christine's eyes widened like saucers and she blinked rapidly. "Why... not?" she asked in wonder.

"I- I really don't know, we've never discussed it in depth. Now can we stop discussing my wife's sexual inclinations- kitty-cat?" he corrected himself at the last minute.

She beamed and lay down again, then promptly propped her feet up on Erik's shoulders. "Kiss me!" she insisted. He obliged gratefully.

"Oh wow. Look who decided to join his family." Becky said as Erik shut the front door behind him. He swallowed uneasily and grabbed his neck. "I told you, I had to work, Becky." he replied hoarsely. His voice was dry, and his hands were sweaty.

"Right. Well, your son is finally feeling better, in case you cared, and your daughter is coming to visit in two weeks. In case you cared." she said wearily. Her hair was pulled back into a droopy ponytail, and the sleeves on her old sweatshirt were pulled up to reveal tan forearms. Normally, Erik would've found her beautiful. Today, he just felt uneasy.

"Great. Well, thanks for the update," he said shortly, walking to the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower."

"You went to school dressed like that?" she asked from the bottom of the staircase, eyeing his jeans and crew neck t-shirt.

Erik swallowed and slowly spun around to face her. "Ye_ah_," he replied, aware of how immature he sounded. He prayed the visible half of his face wasn't turning red. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

She shrugged and walked away. "Nothing, Erik."

He exhaled in relief and continued up the stairs. Before he took a shower, he detoured and tiptoed into Zack's room. As soon as he stepped inside, he smiled; the familiar scent of baby wipes, baby lotion, and Zack enveloped him and immediately put him at ease. He walked to Zack's bed, and quietly knelt down, even though his knees screamed at him for what felt like the tenth time that day.

"Oh, Zacky," he murmured, stroking the toddler's thick black hair. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well... and I'm sorry I left today. It's not because of you, Zack," he whispered. "I love you and your sister more than anything in the whole world, you know?"

Zack continued snoring lightly. Erik smiled at his son; he was clutching the blanket in one hand, and had the rest of it kicked down to his feet. He was wearing Spongebob Squarepants pajamas- Erik winced and shuddered slightly; Christine adored Spongebob.

"Goodnight, Zacky," Erik sighed. He kissed his forehead and continued to his room. There was a post-it note stuck to the phone on his night-table written in Becky's neat, angular cursive. _'Erik, call Alex, she wants to talk to you.' _He grunted and picked up the phone. Christine had big, rounded handwriting with little hearts dotting the i's.

"Hello?" A female voice answered.

"Alex!" Erik smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked at the night-table and smiled at the senior picture of his daughter. She was so beautiful!

"Hi, Daddy!" Alex smiled at the phone. "What's up?"

"Your mother told me to call you," he said dryly. "She left me a note on the phone. I hear you're coming to visit us... is what's his face coming as well?"

Alex rolled her eyes and sighed. Jude walked by and quirked an eyebrow at the phone. '_Dad_', she mouthed. He winced and pretended to hold up his arms against his face in self defense. She shooed him away and threw a napkin in his direction. "Yes, Daddy, Jude is coming too. You know we've been together for five years next month, right? He remembers your name."

"Alex's Daddy is not a difficult name to remember." Erik grunted. "I suppose he's still all marked up, mmm?"

"He still has his tattoos, if that's what you mean," Alex sang. "He's gotten some more too, you'll see them when we come down. The shop is doing really well, he's getting a lot of people from across the country and everything. They hear about him from their friends... he's doing really well."

Erik shuddered. "And you? What about you, are you getting all marked up too?"

"Daddy, you know I have tattoos." she said flatly.

He scrunched up his face angrily and took a deep breath. "How many?"

"Five."

Erik exhaled and passed his hand over his face. He removed his mask and dabbed the skin underneath with a tissue. "Alex, five tattoos?" he asked hoarsely. "_Why_? How are you going to get a job?"

"Ok, number one, they're all small and easy to cover. Number two, I already _have_ a job, the same one I've had for the past like, three years. Number three, tattoos don't carry the same stigma in the job market that they did twenty years ago! Times are changing, Daddy. Get with it."

"I _am_ with it." Erik grumbled. "My students tell me I'm cool all the time."

"Because you're quaint and charming and you wear bow-ties and a mask everyday." Alex teased.

"I didn't wear a bow-tie today," Erik replied.

"You know what I mean, Daddy." Alex laughed. "Alright, let me go now. I just wanted to tell you myself we're coming down. I've got to go finish up dinner for Jude; we're having sushi tonight!"

"Ugh. Disgusting. Ok Peanut. I love you."

"Love you too Daddy."

Erik silently hung up the phone and finally walked to the shower.


	12. Homework

The first thing on Erik's mind Monday morning was Christine. Actually, it was the only thing that had been on his mind since he left Christine the night before. He didn't grade a single paper, didn't comment on Becky's dinner (Russian; borscht), and didn't even take the dog for a walk. He let it out in the backyard instead.

The only thing he could think about was _Christine_. All night, he obsessively reviewed every comment, every sigh, every whimper she had uttered during their time together, terrified and desperate to pick up on something else. But she was so unpredictable, so _odd_, he was never quite sure where he stood with her, and so he simply reviewed everything over again once more.

_"Professor," she wrinkled her nose and bit her lip. "Professor..."_

_"What?" he panted. "What is it?"_

_"I want... I want... mmm..." she arched her back and clung to his shoulders tightly. He groaned and gripped her thighs; taunt, tight, cheerleader thighs, and pushed inside of her again. She tensed and he almost blew his load when he felt her tighten around him._

_"What do you want, baby?" he murmured in her ear. "Tell me; tell Professor what you want."_

_She just scrunched up her face. It looked like she couldn't say it, couldn't say what she wanted him to do. "Oh... oh..." she whimpered again and tossed her head. "Professor!" she whined, squeezing her legs around his midriff. "Do it... please, do it inside, do it- inside, inside..."_

_"Do what?" he grunted. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and gently kissed a tiny pink nipple. "Want me to kiss you here? Hmm? Kiss your little nipples? Tell me!" He thrust harder this time._

_"Come..." she blushed and hid her face in his neck. "Please, inside. I wanna feel it. I like it."_

_A wave of warmth radiated through his body, and he leaned down to kiss her forehead, even as his hips kept rotating. "Oh, baby," he whispered, cradling her against him. "My baby, my baby... tell Professor what you want again. Can you tell me, hmm?"_

_"I want you to come inside me." she whispered. "Please come inside me, sir, please..."_

_"Oh God-" Erik choked. His hips thrust faster, and Christine clung tighter. She whined against his chest and ground herself against his thrusting dick. As soon as she felt the first spurt of his come explode inside her, her muscles gripped him in a dizzying climax._

_"Ooooh..." She blinked furiously and her eyes rolled back. "Oh, Professor..." Instead of relaxing her grip on him, she tightened it, and hugged him as close as possible. Erik panted and moved shallowly until he finished completely; when he did, he stayed inside of her and smiled against her collarbone. It was a relief not to have to pull out immediately following his climax to pull off a condom._

_He tried to move, to adjust himself, but as soon as she felt him twitch, Christine buried her face in his neck and moaned. "No, please don't leave me," she begged. "Stay, stay, please don't go!"_

_He looked down at her in surprise. "I'm not going anywhere, honey," he assured her softly. He pushed loose curls from her forehead and kissed her again. "I'm not going anywhere."_

So that was why, on Monday morning, he had a good feeling about the day. He had an hour and a half class with Christine, and since he couldn't think of anything wrong that could or had happened, he intended to take advantage of every minute he had with his little jailbait goddess.

He drove around to the back of the building he taught in, and parked behind his customary dumpster. It wasn't the most fragrant parking space, but it was secluded and quiet, and he was willing to stomach a moment of bad smelling garbage for the privacy. He stepped outside, adjusted his pink striped bow-tie (Christine's favorite color was pink), and straightened his sweater.

He took his briefcase and began making his way to the school building. He started to cut across the grass, but wrinkled his nose when his shoe sank into wet, goopy mud. "Disgusting," he muttered, shaking it off. He walked around, prepared to take the long way on the sidewalk between the buildings, and was halfway there when he heard something.

_Giggling._

He knew that giggle anywhere. His heart soared and his face flushed and his palms started to sweat. Fixing his grip on his briefcase, he slowly kept walking in the direction of the laughter. It was closer, louder now, and the giggles kept coming in close proximity of one another. It didn't surprise him; whatever it was, Christine was very easily amused.

"Stop that! That tickles!" Christine's crystalline voice insisted.

"Oh come on, you like to be tickled!" A male voice insisted back. More giggling, and then...

"Raoul, we're outside!" Christine giggled. "That's bad!"

"You like it." Raoul's voice declared. "Come on. Kiss me; I haven't seen you since the game."

"I _told_ you, I had tutoring..." she replied. "With Professor Destler."

"I could tutor you," Raoul offered. "I have an A in his class." More giggling. "Yeah, I could tutor you in that too," He laughed. Erik heard a wet, sucking sound, and more heavy breathing. "Come on, we're gonna be late," Raoul finally insisted.

"Wait- one more," Christine replied breathily.

Erik felt his insides twist into little knots. He balled his hands into fists around his briefcase and felt beads of sweat break out beneath his mask. He felt like he was going to be sick. He slowly walked forward, making sure to stay very quiet, until the giggling couple was in his line of sight. As soon as he saw them, he felt his heart beat a little slower.

Raoul had Christine pinned to the back of one of the brick buildings. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a sweatshirt. He looked just like any normal college kid. Christine looked... Erik sighed. She looked incredible. She was so tiny, he felt such an aching tenderness for her, even when she was wrapped up in a big jock's embrace.

She pulled away from Raoul slowly and closed her eyes while he kissed her neck. Erik's heart felt like breaking, he wasn't even sure what he wanted to do. He knew she was dating Raoul now, she told him already, he actually liked Raoul, but when he saw her fingers grip his sweatshirt, and her eyes close in pleasure... he felt like he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, her bright blue eyes looked up and caught his mismatched ones. She blinked slowly, almost as though she didn't recognize him, and then... and then she smiled. Erik stood paralyzed as Raoul continued kissing her neck, oblivious to his presence, and Christine slowly lifted a hand clutching Raoul's shoulder and waved at him.

"Hello," she mouthed with another smile. She giggled and bit Raoul's ear. "Hey, what was that for?" Raoul growled playfully. He tickled her again and this time she let him.

Erik slowly turned away and continued walking to his building. _What a surreal morning_, he thought in a daze. _'Bar your mind from all remembrance of what you have seen...'_ He unlocked his classroom and quickly shut the door behind him. He didn't want any students coming in yet; he had another twenty minutes before class was scheduled.

With a weary and dramatic sigh, Erik walked to his office and slumped down in his armchair. Every hope he had for having his devilish little student all to himself today was shattered the moment he saw her with Raoul. And why in the world would she _smile _at him? Not just smile, but wave and say hello, too!

"Ok, Erik," he muttered to himself. "Take a deep breath, and take a step back. Count to ten." He remembered Becky's constant advice when Alex was a teenager- count to ten.

_"Becky!" Erik squeaked, brandishing a copy of Alex's eighth grade report card at her. "What is this?"_

_"That's her report card, dear," Becky replied calmly._

_"No!" Erik clutched his throat in panic and pointed to the third row. "THIS!" A big, fat, ugly __**D**__ sat right across from the word 'French.' Erik felt like he was going to have a conniption. He honestly felt like he was going to die._

_"Yes, darling, I'm aware; she got a D in French. I know, Erik, I'm not happy about it either, but please, calm down." Becky said gently, leading her husband to the sofa. "You're going to give yourself a heart attack."_

_"WHY does she have a D?" Erik asked angrily. "In French? I'm French! She's French! I speak French!"_

_"Well, dear, from what I understand-"_

_"From what she's __**told**__ you."_

_"From what I understand, her and her teacher don't exactly get along very well. And I think she didn't turn in a few assignments... maybe you should talk to her about it." she suggested with a smile._

_"Kill her is more like it!" he cried._

_"Erik, Erik," Becky held up a hand and kissed his lips softly. "Count to ten."_

Well, it wasn't like she hadn't told him. In fact, the first thing she told him when he saw her was that she had a new boyfriend; she obviously wasn't trying to hide it from him. He really didn't have a stake to claim with her, he thought dully. What was he? Her professor? That she just happened to be sleeping with?

He wasn't even that special! From what he gathered when she mentioned Professor Bird... Erik shuddered and squeezed his eyes shut. Christine didn't seem to discriminate. And at least she looked happy to see him, pelvis pressed against her boyfriend's as it was. She smiled and said hello!

Erik shook his head and slowly stood up. All of this warped logic was giving his brain a beating; he felt like he was stuck in a Sartre novel. He ambled outside into his classroom and suddenly heard a loud knocking on the door's window. He jumped slightly, and then blushed, feeling like an idiot.

"Who is it... class isn't for another ten minutes..." he muttered under his breath. His opened the door, and was attacked by a tiny brown creature that smelled like bubble-gum and baby powder. He grunted and staggered back, trying to hold it at arm's length.

"Profes_sor_!" A giggly voice whined. "Come on, gimme a kiss before Raoul sees!"

"Christine?" he blinked in confusion. "What are you doing, are you insane?" He frowned, wiped the lip gloss off his cheek and nervously stuck his head out the door. Raoul was right there, at the end of the hall, with his shaggy blonde head leaned over a water fountain. She tried to pull him back and kiss him again, but he grabbed her wrist and held her back.

"_No_, Christine," he hissed. "What's wrong with you? I just saw you with him, we can't do this now!"

Her face fell and she tried to grab him again. He instinctively held her off and tightened his hold on her wrist. "Professor..." she whimpered, wringing her other hand. "Why are you being mean to me? You're hurting me!"

"Hey Teach!" a bright voice called from the doorway. "Whatcha guys doing?"

Erik immediately dropped her hand and took a step back; Christine's eyes widened and she innocently clasped her hands behind her back. "Hi Raoul!" she smiled sweetly. "I was just saying good morning to Professor Destler." She ran up to him and kissed his cheek. "Your hair is so long!" She teased her fingers through it and giggled. "It's almost as long as mine!"

"Not-uh," Raoul grinned goofily. "Look at how long yours is! Professor, have you ever seen anyone with hair as long as Christine?" He smiled and toyed with her French braid; it reached all the way to the small of her back.

Erik grunted awkwardly and took another step back. Now he wished more students would come in; where were they? They were going to be late! He glanced at the couple and smiled politely. "No, no, I don't think I have- she has very beautiful hair." He closed his eyes for a second and tried not to think about the way her loose curls bounced when she rode him...

Raoul smiled proudly and continued toying with it. "See? Mine's not as long as yours." he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around her waist in an uncomfortably intimate gesture.

"He's just saying that-" Christine teased, throwing Erik a mischievous smirk. Erik's eyes were glued to Raoul's hand, planted firmly on Christine's lower back. "Right, Professor?" she prodded.

Erik's head snapped up and he plastered another Chuckie doll smile on his face. "Of course, your hair is lovely as well, Raoul," he joked.

"You're such a joker, Doc!" Raoul guffawed, punching Erik in the arm. Erik squinted in mild annoyance and wondered what dwarf he would be called next. "Man, I love this class." He turned to Christine and grinned widely, pointing at Erik. "Isn't he awesome?"

Christine fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously and pursed her full lips. _Oh, Lord... _Erik thought. "Oh, Professor's amazing!" she purred. "It feels so... good..." she bit her lip and let her eyes drop below his belt for a split second. "To be in this class." she giggled and kissed Raoul on the lips. Raoul grinned, oblivious, and nodded enthusiastically. "I know, right?"

"Professor Destler, I was wondering if you could help me out on that lesson from last class-" Melanie Daniels suddenly strode in, looking flustered.

"Ms. Daniels!" Erik cried, walking towards her with a wide smile. "Of course, you need some help? Not a problem, come one, let's see if I can clear things up. You two go have a seat now." He turned to Raoul and Christine and smiled with clenched teeth. Melanie glanced at him uncertainly. "Erm- thank you, sir."

"Of course, of course!" Erik exclaimed. "Now what seems to be the problem?"

As she replied, Raoul and Christine bounded up the stairs until they reached the back of the classroom. Students all of a sudden came pouring in as the clock struck, and Raoul hastily grabbed the back table for Christine and himself. He said hello to a few of his football buddies, but quickly turned his attention back to Christine.

"Did you do your homework?" he asked nervously, reaching into his back pack and pulling out a binder. He opened it and shuffled through the first few typed pages uncertainly. "I'm not sure if I did it right."

She stared at him blankly. "We had homework?" she asked uncertainly.

"Yeah, Christine!" he said in disbelief. "Holy shit, our first draft is due today!"

"...First draft of what?" she blinked in confusion.

Raoul widened his eyes. "First draft of our research paper..." he replied slowly. "Oh my God, are you kidding me? You didn't do it? This is like, a major grade! He won't accept it late!"

She bit her lip and looked around nervously. The whole class had finally sat down, and was in the process of shuffling through their things and finding their papers. Melanie had sat down, and Erik's back was turned to the class as he wrote on the board. Raoul saw the look on her face and took her hand. Now he felt bad.

"Hey, listen, it's alright," he said gently. "Just tell him you left it in your dorm or something. He's pretty nice, he'll probably let you turn it in next class."

"Am I going to get in trouble?" she worried. Her eyes watered up in panic and she tightened her hold on his hand. "I don't want to get in trouble!"

Some people turned around to look at her, but Raoul quickly shushed her. "Shh, no, come one, don't worry baby, you're not gonna get in trouble. Just relax and let's see what happens." He patted her arm comfortingly and she nodded, reassured.

"Alright, if you would all take out your outlines and rough drafts, I will be coming around to discuss them with you. This might take a while, so I ask you all to please keep it down when I'm not talking to you. These were all due today, so it's the only day you'll get credit for them. _No. Late. Work._" Erik smiled around the class as a few students chuckled; everyone knew what an important grade this was, what kind of an idiot would expect to turn it in late?

"Oh, _shit_, I forgot the outline!" Raoul muttered under his breath. He looked up swiftly, and satisfied that Erik would be in the front of the class for quite some time, pulled out some loose-leaf and hastily started writing it.

Christine grabbed his shoulder in fear. "Raoul, you said he would take it late," she whined. "I'm going to get in trouble!"

"Uh-huh..." he muttered, writing as fast as he could. "Yup..."

"Raoul!" she sniffled, shaking his shoulder.

He held up a finger and kept writing. "Hold on a minute, Christine," he mumbled. "Let me just finish this real quick. I'm almost done."

Christine bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat nervously. She didn't want Professor to be mad at her, because then he wouldn't like her anymore, and if he didn't like her anymore, she might get in trouble, and she definitely didn't want to get into trouble. She kept looking at Raoul, but he looked engrossed in finishing his outline. She wasn't even sure what an outline was. She peeked at his paper and swallowed; it looked very complicated. But, then again... things almost always looked complicated to Christine.

"Sh-sh-shit..." Raoul muttered, writing frantically. "Christine, is he coming? How close is he?"

"Um..." she glanced up and started in surprise. He was in the row right in front of them. She checked the clock nervously and started biting her nails. Time had gone by so quickly! "He's right there, Raoul. You should go faster." she said dumbly, poking his shoulder.

"Allllllright... done!" Raoul exclaimed, slamming his pencil on the table victoriously. The class looked up and several students craned their heads to see what was going on; Erik raised an eyebrow in his direction. Raoul grinned sheepishly and hunched over slightly.

Finally, Erik came to their isolated little table. They were holding hands under the desk, and Erik felt his heart palpitate. "Hands above the table!" he grunted. They exchanged a guilty look and Christine gulped and tried to shrink away from his stare. Raoul grinned proudly and puffed up his chest; his draft and outline were pushed right up to the edge of the desk.

"Alright, what do we have here, Raoul?" Erik began, squatting down in front of him. He picked up Raoul's papers and shuffled through them, nodding in approval until he found the outline. He took it out of the pile and raised an eyebrow and the messy, handwritten copy. "Care to explain?" he asked dryly.

"Uh... yeah, about that, Professor, sir, I- it's a really crazy story actually, you see my computer accidently _deleted_ my files, and-"

Erik rolled his eyes and pushed the outline back at Raoul. "Save it, and fix it. At least it's done, and it looks like it's in passable condition- aside from the handwriting, Jesus Christ, Raoul- just please type it and show it to me next class." He read Raoul's rough draft, made a few marks with Christine's purple glitter pen, then handed it back to him with a smile. "Good job, Raoul, I'm very proud of you."

Raoul beamed and gazed at Erik in admiration. "Really, sir, it's ok?"

Erik was about to smile back when he suddenly caught sight of Christine's thighs under the table and remembered that Raoul was his rival. _No, rival? What were they, Vandals and Barbs? Raoul was Christine's boyfriend, Erik was her teacher, simple as that. _"Yes, Raoul, it's marvelous." he said gruffly. "Now work on those corrections."

Raoul nodded and diligently got to work. Erik turned to Christine, and noticed the empty table in front of her. Her head was down and her hands were clasped in her lap. "Christine...?" he began gently, trying to catch her eye. She avoided it anxiously. "Christine..." he repeated, trying with all of his might to stay professional. He sighed and rested his chin on the table. "Do you have your homework, dear?" he asked softly.

She bit her lip and shook her head slowly. Erik shook his head slowly too, just like her. "No?" he asked. She shook her head again and kept avoiding his eyes; hers kept darting nervously.

"Ok," he said softly. He stood up and ran his fingers through his hair quickly. "Christine, would you mind? I'd like to have a word with you in my office."

She looked up at him with saucer eyes and gulped. He said nothing and merely stepped back politely to let her pass. She slowly stood up and started walking to his office; she took one last look at Raoul as though she was being led to the slaughterhouse, and he crossed his fingers and blew her a kiss.

She gulped when Erik stepped in front of her to open the door. He was mad about that morning; he had to be. That had to be it. He saw her kissing Raoul, and now she was going to get in trouble. Her knees started wobbling, and she felt dizzy. She desperately hoped he wouldn't get _too_ mad...

"Class dismissed everyone," Erik called. "I want your final copies in two weeks, got it?"

The class collectively grinned when he dismissed them early; some teachers never dismissed early at all. Christine blinked at everyone as they left, and followed Erik inside, oblivious to the sound of her name being called from the back of the class.

As soon as Erik shut the door behind him, Christine was on her knees in front of him. She started fumbling nervously with him belt, while at the same time trying to stimulate him through his pants. He looked down at her in disbelief and did nothing for a moment, he was so taken aback.

"Professor...?" she whimpered, looking up at him uncertainly when he didn't get hard. "What's the matter?" she rubbed her head against his thigh and kept massaging his dick through his slacks.

"Christine!" he cried, raising a hand to refasten his belt. She saw his hand fly through the air in her direction, yelped, and clutched his legs tightly. "I'm sorry I didn't write my paper!" she wailed into his leg. "I forgot about it, I didn't know it was due today! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please don't be mad at me!"

"Christine, Christine," Erik said, lowering his voice to a soft, even tone. "Calm down, sweetheart. Please, get up. Come here, sit down on the couch." He fixed his pants quickly and led her to the couch. She gazed at him with watery, wary blue eyes. "You're not mad at me?" she asked.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, I'm not mad at you, Christine! That doesn't mean I don't want you to do your work in my class, because you should, but I ah... understand that you were occupied this weekend, and I know we have a very special relationship. Understand?"

She gazed at him unblinkingly. He knew there was a problem when she wasn't blinking. "Christine, we're sleeping together. You don't have to worry about doing your homework." he said bluntly.

Her face lit up and she grabbed his hands in excitement. "Really?" she beamed. "So you're not mad at me? You're not mad about the homework?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "No, my dear. I'm not mad about the homework. Raoul, on the other hand..." he trailed of and narrowed his eyes.

Her face fell. "You don't like Raoul?" she asked sadly. "Raoul's my boyfriend."

He grunted. "I'm well aware." He sighed and walked to his coffee pot. "I like Raoul," he said honestly. "I'm very happy for you two, and I hope it lasts long, and you enjoy each other. I decided this morning. I'm going to try not to let it bother me. Coffee?" He walked back to the couch with a mug in his outstretched hand.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust and curled her feet under her. "So you're not mad?" she purred, leaning up and kissing his neck gently.

He gave her a sly smile and raised his eyebrow. "Not in my office, please."

"Why not?" She had to be the embodiment of a sex kitten, he thought to himself as she climbed onto his lap. No one else could go from contrite school girl to sensuous lover like her!

"Because..." he groaned and let her kiss him, nervously trying to keep the hot coffee away from her. "This is my place of work. I have to be professional."

She giggled and reached for his pants again. This time she was pleased with what she found. "Oooh..." her eyes got wide. "Is this for me?"

"_Professor!_" A loud rapping on the door had them both jumping off the couch guiltily. "Sorry to bug you, but is Christine almost done in there?"

"Uh, yes Raoul, just a minute, we'll be right out!" Erik called, straightening his shirt and bow tie anxiously. He looked at Christine and sighed hopelessly; her lip gloss was all smeared, her jumper was crooked, and her braid was coming undone. And she hadn't even gotten his zipper unzipped yet.

"Come here," he muttered. He cradled her face in his hands and wiped off the excess lip gloss with his thumb, then hastily smoothed down her braid. Then he straightened out her jumper, adjusted himself once more, and opened the door.

Raoul was leaning on the desk when they walked out. He stood up and smiled at Christine. "Hey babe," he grinned. "You in trouble?" He glanced up and Erik, who coughed awkwardly and said simply, "We've discussed it. She knows."

Christine looked up at Raoul and smiled happily, then ran to the back to get her books. "Class is over!" she exclaimed. "Let's get some food, I'm _starving_!"

Raoul leaned over and kissed her, tongue and all. "Sounds great!" he replied happily. They kept kissing, and Erik gulped and started fiddling with his wedding ring. He heard them whispering together and he slowly walked back into his office and shut the door.

They didn't even notice.


	13. Alex

In the next few weeks, Erik learned several things about Christine. The first thing was that she did exceptionally well when on a structured schedule. The second thing was that she did not do well at all when her routine was interrupted.

She had class with him on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Mondays and Wednesdays were his early classes, and Friday was an afternoon class. It seemed like they had come to a mutual- or at least one way understanding. He was never quite sure if she understood much.

It started one day after class, in his office. He was deep in thought, examining her panties carefully, when he was interrupted by a loud growling noise. He glanced up at her in alarm and she giggled sheepishly. "I'm so hungry..." she moaned, burying her face in his neck. "I ran out of meals for the semester."

He rubbed her back gently and frowned in concern. He could feel her ribs and hip bones protrude, even when she was wearing clothes, and although her face had the youthful charm of round cheeks, it was the only place on her body with any residual baby fat.

"I'll get you something to eat. What do you mean, you ran out of meals? The semester's not even close to being finished!" He said.

She shrugged. "I let Raoul have some... because he was hungry. But then I ran out."

"But what about you?" he asked. "What have you been eating?" His brow was creased in worry, and she was temporarily distracted by the wrinkles around his eye. "Ducky feet," she giggled, stroking the corner of his left eye gently. "Look, your eye goes like this-" she scrunched up her own eyes tightly to create matching wrinkles. His heart melted, even if she was laughing about his wrinkles.

"Christine," he murmured. "What have you been eating, sweetheart?"

She shrugged. "Sometimes Meg or Sauna gives me their leftovers, or they buy me French fries. I don't get hungry _that_ often. But I'm hungry now!" She gasped with suddenly wide eyes. "Do you have any candy?"

He stood up and reached behind his desk. "Candy's not food," he said sternly. "Here, eat this." He handed her his sandwich (made himself, because Becky had been running late) and poured her a cup of apple juice. He now kept a bottle in his office.

Her eyes widened and she purred happily. "Oooh, it looks good!" she beamed. "I want some candy too!"

He took a seat next to her and pulled her legs into his lap. "No, eat your lunch. Candy is bad for your teeth."

She wrinkled up her face again and stuck out her tongue at him. "You're mean." she declared, taking a big bite of roast beef and cheddar cheese.

He laughed and stroked her pretty legs. "I'm not mean, I've just had two children, and I know how it is."

She huffed and continued eating. Once she finished the first half, she slowly set it down besides her and started wiggling around the couch languorously, 'accidently' bumping into him several times. "Professor..." she smiled sweetly and batted her eyelashes at him.

He swallowed. His first instinct was to ignore her, but when he felt her legs in his lap... and saw her skirt ride up, up, until her green cotton panties with ladybugs were visible, he knew he was done for. "What?" he asked warily, inching away from her uneasily.

"I'm so hot... it's so hot in here," she rubbed her legs together and slowly pulled down her skirt. She peeked up at him through her hair and smiled; his eyes were fixed on her panties. "Why don't you take these off too?" she suggested, moving her bottom to sit on his lap instead. She tugged his pants and let her fingers stray to his zipper. Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Whoopsy!" she giggled. "I didn't know _that_ was there!"

He blushed and cursed his erection. It was true; it was standing straight up and proud, seeking out a certain underage kitty cat. "Come here," he whispered, wrapping his arm around her waist. She kissed his ear and he smiled and started to remove her blouse, but then-

"Wait," she looked up and smiled. "Where's my candy?"

He groaned and pulled out a Hershey kiss.

And so, ever since that day, Erik always had a meal ready for her when she came into his office for her weekly 'tutoring' sessions. At least that's what she told Raoul, Meg, and Mrs. Giry they were; everyone but Meg believed her.

"Grounds for a divorce..." Meg sang when Christine explained where she was. "Stay away, stay away..."

Raoul believed her completely and fully. He adored Erik, and thought he was the coolest guy around after Nadir. He had been kicked off the football team indefinitely, and all of his time was spent either in Christine's dorm room, or with Nadir, smoking pot.

Another thing Erik learned about Christine was her incessant curiosity about _every_thing. For every single thing he did, she had to know what, why, when, who, and can-I-help. She was like a toddler, she actually reminded him of his son the way she mimicked and copied him. If Erik propped his feet up on the footstool by his desk, so did she. If he drank coffee out of a mug, she demanded her apple juice in one as well.

This innocent curiosity made her incredibly susceptible to all sorts of things. A week after Christine and Raoul began dating, he convinced her to smoke a joint with him. "Come on, it's super awesome, Chrissy," he beamed as he passed her the doobie. "Look, just put it in your mouth, suck in a deep breath, and exhale slowly," he instructed her.

She took it with wide eyes, did as he said, and promptly broke into a coughing fit. "Ow!" she wailed, clutching her throat. "Oooowww! My throat!"

"Ok, ok, calm down, here, just take a swig of water," Raoul reassured her, passing her the Aquafina. She gulped it down desperately and glared at him with damp eyes. "It's just the smoke, babe," Raoul grinned, taking her hand. She took it back defiantly and buried her head under a pillow. "I don't like that!" she called. Her voice was muffled.

"Come on, watch me do it," Raoul said. She peeked at him from under her pillow and studied the way he inhaled the smoke deeply... and blew it back out in little rings. "Ooh, it's just like the caterpillar from Alice and Wonderland!" she exclaimed happily. She clapped her hands together in excitement and moved closer. "I want to try!"

And thus, smoking a joint every week with Raoul became a part of her routine.

Erik was not happy about her newfound discovery of cannabis, but every time he tried to take her to task about it, she always managed to somehow... distract him until he was too weak to fight her. It was on one of these occasions (a Friday), as Erik lay defeated beneath a naked Christine, that he brought up the holiday season.

"Christine, will you be leaving for Thanksgiving?" he asked mildly, wrapping a curl around his finger.

"Leaving where?" she asked blankly.

"You know," he replied uncertainly. "Home. To your family."

She let her head droop back onto his chest and resumed playing with his chest hair. "I don't have a family. They're all dead." she sighed.

"Oh." he hesitated before stroking her back. "I'm very sorry; when... did your parents pass away?"

She yawned loudly and shrugged in the same way she did when he asked for her homework. "I don't remember," she mumbled listlessly. "A long time ago." She sat up suddenly and tickled his sides. "Are you having turkey?" she asked in excitement.

He shrugged and tried to get away from her hands. "Who knows..." he muttered. "My wife will probably make some 'exotic' dish that no one will want to eat, and I'll be stuck with it-" he trailed off with a frown.

"At least she's making you something." Christine said softly. He looked up in surprise; she looked sad.

"I- I-" he shut his mouth and suddenly felt terribly guilty. Why was he complaining about Becky? He loved her food. Maybe he felt obligated to, since he was in the presence of his... mistress? He was so confused; why was Christine defending her? Was she even defending her?

"Mrs. Becky was nice to me," Christine mumbled. She buried her face in his neck and wiggled her rump in the air. "You don't like her?"

"No I- I love Becky," Erik whispered. "I just- things are different now than they were before. Do you understand?"

She looked up and blinked dolefully. "Why are they different?" she asked.

"We were both different people when we met," he sighed. "I'm going to be fifty this year; I met Becky when I was... twenty one, twenty two, she was eighteen or nineteen- that's almost thirty years ago, Christine. And things were so-" he shrugged and continued stroking Christine's hair. It was comforting. "We met, we got married, had Alex, and... that's my life. Twenty six years of being married to the same person. Can you imagine?"

Christine looked up at him through her lashes and giggled. He smiled and shook his head. "Of course you can't, look at you, you're not even twenty yet. Twenty, Jesus Christ, you're not even eighteen! You're so young, and beautiful, and every time I look at you..." He stared at her in wonder and sighed. "You have your whole life in front of you. You make me feel young again."

She leaned up and kissed his lips sweetly. "You _are_ young, Professor," she said with wide eyed innocence. "And I like you."

"Oh, Christine..." he stroked her cheek with the back of his palm and kissed her forehead. "I wish you were right."

_Knock, knock, knock!_

"Oh shit, get dressed!" he hissed, scrambling to get off the couch and find his slacks. He tripped into them and hastily yanked Christine's sweater over her head. "Coming!" he called to the door, giving Christine one more appraisal. "Be right out!" He looked her over quickly, smoothed her hair, wiped off her smudged lip gloss, and slipped into his shoes, before opening the door.

"Daddy!" a voice squealed. "Surprise!" A tall, slender brunette charged at him with her arms outstretched. Christine nervously took a step back.

"Alex?" Erik cried in surprise. "Is that you?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in his chest. He smelled just like she remembered- like soap, leather, and a faint whiff of whatever cologne he had been using for the past twenty years. "I took an earlier flight to surprise you, I just got here today! Are you happy to see me?" She beamed as she looked up at him.

"Are you kidding?" He grinned and kissed her forehead. Christine blinked and made a tiny noise in her throat. "I'm beyond happy, this is the best surprise I've had in a long time!" He kissed her hairline again and squeezed her against his chest. "Mmm, you made my week. I missed you so much."

"I missed you too, Daddy." she smiled and placed her hands on his shoulders. "God, it's been so long since I've been here! Every thing's changed so much, even the school..."

"Yes, I know, isn't it wonderful?" Erik smiled. "They just keep expanding, and we keep bringing in new students." He beamed and looked around his office, and blinked in surprise when he saw Christine still standing there, clutching her books tightly to her chest. "Oh..." he swallowed and looked at Alex nervously. She smiled at him expectantly, waiting for an introduction.

"Alex, this is my daught- daughter, what am I saying?" He rolled his eyes and gently pushed Christine forward. She hunched her shoulders and stared at Alex warily. "This is my student, Christine. Christine, this is my daughter, Alex."

"Hi there!" Alex said brightly, extending her hand. "It's nice to meet you!"

Christine looked down moodily and moved closer to Erik, ignoring the hand. "Hi." she mumbled. "Professor..." she moved closer still and looked up at him with big deer eyes. He swallowed and quickly looked up at Alex, who looked taken aback by Christine's reaction.

"Um, Alex, if you'll just give me a second," he apologized anxiously.

"Oh sure, no problem," she said quickly, moving to take seat on the couch. "Don't!" Erik cried, holding out a hand to stop her. She looked up in alarm, and Christine took another step closer to him. "Don't sit there," he pleaded. "Please, it's ah... very dirty, I have to have it cleaned. Sit in my chair."

Alex held up her hands jokingly and laughed. "Yikes, wow, sorry, I'll just uh, sit right here then." She collapsed in his squishy chair and propped her feet up on the desk with a big grin. Christine's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. Erik quickly ushered her out of the room.

"I'll see you on Monday, ok?" he said quickly, patting her shoulder hastily. "I'm so excited, I had no idea she was coming early! Isn't that amazing?" His eyes got dreamy and he beamed at Christine's blank face obliviously. "She went to Columbia, you know. She's just so _smart_, I have no idea where she gets it from-" He stopped, breathless, when Christine moved closer again and made a little noise in her throat.

"Well, I don't want to hold you up." He smiled quickly, patted her back again, and started turning. "I'm sure you want to enjoy your weekend, have fun!" he barely finished his sentence before he twirled back around to go and talk to Alex.

Christine stared at him go and pouted. Except it wasn't just A pout; it was The Pout.

"So how on earth did you two find affordable tickets at the last minute?" Becky asked Alex and Jude as they all sat at the dinner table. She passed Jude the edamame (tonight was Japanese) and he beamed gratefully. Even Erik had agreed to sit next to him for the evening, even if it was only to separate the tattooed hooligan from his beautiful Alex.

"Well, Jude has a flight attendant friend who works for Delta, and we called him up, totally last minute, and he got them for us! Isn't that lucky?" Alex gushed. She tapped Erik's forearm with her chopsticks and pointed across the table. "Daddy, rainbow rolls," she whispered.

He smiled at her indulgently and reached across the table to grab them. "Here you are, Jellybean," he kissed her forehead and served her. "Watch the soy sauce."

Becky looked at Jude and rolled her eyes. He brought his hand to his mouth and covered his laugh with a cough. As he brought his hand up, his shirt sleeve fell slightly, and revealed a sleeve not quite ending at his wrist. He swallowed anxiously and glanced at Alex, who checked her own tattoos uneasily.

Erik and Becky saw his arms at the same time, and Erik's visible face immediately turned tense and pale. Becky frowned protectively; at least the boy had the nice manners to cover his tattoos as well as possible and dress nicely, she thought defensively. He certainly had his own style, that was true, but he was polite, he played with Zack, and he called her Mrs. Destler. That was good enough for her.

"So Jude, Alex tells us business is booming!" she smiled warmly and pushed some wasabi in his direction. "How are things with the shop?"

Jude glanced at Erik, who was suddenly immersed in his edamame, and nodded with an uncertain smile. "Yeah, actually, things are going great," he replied enthusiastically in his soft voice. "We've hired some really talented new artists, and one of them was actually just featured in Skin & Ink last month."

"Oh, how exciting!" Becky exclaimed. "You must be so proud."

"Oh yes," Jude grinned and drank some Miso soup. "Extremely proud. I was just telling Alex the other day I'm going to start working out, to get ready for my television debut. 'Queens Ink', I think that's what we're going to call it." Alex started laughing and she kicked him under the table.

"Mom, he's crazy, please don't listen to him," she laughed, rolling her eyes. "He told me the same thing, and I told him there is no way he's getting a TV show. Maybe in his dreams!"

Jude smiled and shook his head. "No, I don't want a TV show," he laughed softly. "I would be so nervous- no, I just want to do what I do and that's it. I love my job."

"How many tattoos do you have?" Erik asked gruffly. He was still staring at his edamame.

"Um..." Jude paused thoughtfully and strummed his fingers on the table. He straightened his glasses and furrowed his brow; it looked like he was deep in thought. "Wow, it's been a long time since anyone's asked me that!" he laughed, trying to smile at Erik, who had turned the masked side of his face to him completely.

"Well, I have two sleeves," he began.

"A sleeve?" Erik interrupted sourly. Becky and Alex exchanged nervous looks, and Alex tried patting his arm to calm him down. He ignored her.

"Yes sir," Jude replied quickly. "It's either one big design, or a lot of small designs incorporated into one- and it covers your arm, just like a clothing sleeve."

Erik put down his fork slowly and turned to face Jude. Inwardly, Erik sighed; he wasn't a bad looking boy, not in the slightest. He had thick, nicely cut brown hair, a full beard and mustache, and thick black rimmed glasses. But when he looked down, and saw traces of what looked like a lot of tattoos peeking out from under his blue plaid shirt...

"Covers your whole arm." He repeated quietly. "May I see?"

Jude smiled faintly and glanced at Alex. She raised an eyebrow and nodded warily. "Sure, sure, of course, sir." He said politely, unbuttoning his sleeve cuffs quickly. He rolled them up to his elbows, and held out his muscular forearms. "There they are." He smiled proudly.

"You enjoy this?" Erik squinted and waved his fork over Jude's arm. "You like this?"

"Yes, sir." Jude replied simply.

Erik grunted and went back to his edamame.

"Becky, they are not sleeping in the same room." Erik said angrily. He grabbed two pillows from the linen closet, frowned, grabbed another, and slammed the door. He spun around and pointed his finger in her face. "Not under my roof."

Becky sighed and put the extra comforter back in the closet. "Erik, they're adults. She's twenty _five_. They _live_ together, for goodness sake, you think they sleep in separate bedrooms at home?"

"Becky, it's inappropriate." He said flatly. "I don't care what they do in New York, they're in my house now, and they're not going to do it here. That's _it._" He yanked the extra comforter back out of the closet and started walking down the stairs.

He found them both in the living room, cuddled up under a blanket watching A Knight's Tale. He narrowed his eyes; it was a big, bulky blanket, and thus impossible to tell where hands, feet, and other limbs were. "My, my, don't we look cozy." he grunted. "Bed time. And hands above the blanket for future reference."

"Dad, it's ten o clock." Alex said flatly. "And we're just watching a movie."

"Oh, watching a movie, is that what they call it nowadays? I must be getting old. Out." He jerked his thumb in the direction of the stairs and bumped Alex's knee with his. "Out, out, out. No, Jude, you stay." He held out his hand when Jude started to stand up. "We have a lovely fold out couch right here, it's very comfortable, and I'm sure you'll be very happy here."

Alex crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrow. Becky peeked around the corner and smiled; she looked just like her father. "Dad." she said. "You're kidding me."

Erik looked up at her and raised his eyebrow at her. "Who's kidding? I'm not kidding; why would I be kidding?"

"Dad! Jude is not sleeping on the fold out couch!" she insisted. "I have a full size bed upstairs, my room is more than big enough for both of us-"

"Woohoohoo..." Erik smiled and wiped his forehead. "You are not sleeping in the same room. No shenanigans in this house, Missy. And you-" he spun around and jabbed his finger at Jude. "You stay down here. Understand?"

Jude's eyes widened and he nodded silently. "Yes sir."

Erik's mismatched eyes narrowed and Jude gulped. "I have ears like a cat." he hissed. "If you try anything, I will hear you."

"N-no, sir, no shenanigans." Jude stammered. "Alex, it's ok. Just let it go. Come on, sir, I'll help you unfold it." Erik smiled and stuck out his tongue at Alex and Becky in the doorway. Alex dropped her arms and turned to her mother. "Mom!" she exclaimed. "This is ridiculous! Jude is twenty _eight_, I'm twenty _five_, come on!"

"Mere children." Erik scoffed under his breath. "I should've sent you to a convent. Pledge your life to Jesus."

"Dad you're an atheist." Alex snapped.

Becky shrugged and went to the kitchen. "Whatever your father says... I'm making some dessert, who wants some? Jude, honey, would you mind helping me?" She winked at him and he smiled gratefully.

"Oh yes, ma'am, I'll be right there." he ran to follow her.

"You are allowed to stay up until eleven o clock." Erik said curtly. "And you are allowed to stay downstairs with him. BUT there will be no touching, no kissing, no fooling around or whatever else you kids do these days. Am I understood?"

She rolled her eyes and collapsed on the fold out couch. "Whatever you say, Daddy. You know, for teaching college kids, sometimes you can be terribly un-hip."

"You have no idea how hip I can be." he replied simply. And he walked upstairs without another word.


	14. Kisses and Hugs and Sometimes Ice Cream

"Christine, where have you been?" Meg asked in concern as the younger girl quietly walked into their dorm. "It's eleven o clock in the morning, where were you all night? Why didn't you call?"

Christine ignored her, stripped down to her panties and t-shirt, and crawled into bed, under her mountain of fluffy blankets. Meg stood up from her desk, grabbed Christine's jacket and sniffed it suspiciously. "Have you been drinking?" she asked the lump in the bed. She kicked the footboard and crossed her arms. "Christine, answer me, have you been drinking?"

"I don't feel good." Christine whispered from under her pillow. "My head hurts."

Meg dropped the jacket and her eyes widened in alarm. "Christine, your head hurts?" she asked gently. She knelt down next to the bed and tried to feel her forehead, but Christine pulled away with a whimper.

"No, go away..." she whispered. She covered her eyes and started sniffling. "My head hurts."

"Where were you, Christine?" Meg pleaded. "Please tell me. Who were you with? I promise you won't get in trouble."

"I didn't drink anything, Meg," Christine said softly. "I promise."

"I believe you, babe. I'm going to go bring you an Excedrin, I'll be right back, ok?" she patted the pillow gently and grabbed her cell phone and wallet before heading out the door. As soon as she got outside, she dialed her mother.

"Meg!" Mrs. Giry answered the phone happily. "How are you, dear?"

"Hey Mom, I'm great," Meg replied quickly. She stepped in the elevator and said a quick prayer of thanks that it was empty. "Listen, Christine just got back not five minutes ago from God knows where after she's been gone all night." Meg sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Mom, she's getting another migraine."

Mrs. Giry put her hand on her heart and exhaled. "Oh goodness," she breathed. "Oh Meg, you don't think-"

"I- I don't know, Ma, she won't tell me where she was or where she was with!" Meg exploded. The elevator dinged and she stepped out impatiently. "You know how she gets, she clams up and boom! Peter Pan, flying far far away. I'm getting her some Excedrin now."

Mrs. Giry sighed slowly and rubbed her temples. "Good. Where is she now?"

"She's upstairs, in bed. I don't know what to do with her, I mean-"

"You must turn off the lights." Mrs. Giry said firmly. "No lights, no radio, nothing. Silence, darkness, and a cold compress."

"Yeah Ma, that's great, but what about me?" Meg snapped. "I have a paper due tomorrow!" She angrily stormed into the student convenience store and grabbed a bottle of Excedrin off the shelf. She shoved it to the cashier and silently pointed to the pack of Newports behind her head. The cashier shook her head disapprovingly and rang them all up for her; Meg smiled thankfully- the girl was in her ballet class.

"Meg, are you buying cigarettes?" Mrs. Giry said suddenly. She heard a cashier ringing something up. "You had better not be buying cigarettes-"

"Mother, I'm trying to quit. Sometimes, however, things like Christine happen, and I get stressed out. Ok?" Meg glanced longingly at her cigarettes and punched the elevator button with narrowed eyes.

Mrs. Giry was silent for a moment. As she listened to Meg's labored breathing, she tentatively tried again. "What about your paper?"

"I'm just gonna take my laptop to the student lounge or the library or something," Meg sighed. "I just hope it's not too crowded."

"What about Sauna's place?" Mrs. Giry suggested.

"Nah, I know she's got a lot of work to do. I don't want to bother her. I'll be fine, don't worry. Listen, I'm almost back, I'll call you later and keep you posted on the patient, ok?"

"Ok Meg, please take care of her, she's fragile-"

"Yes, Mother, I know. Goodbye." Meg snapped the phone shut and quietly opened the door to her room. She sighed; the light was still on. In her haste to leave, and Christine's inability to do for herself, it was left on only to increase Christine's headache.

"Christine," Meg whispered. She shut the door behind her quietly and shut off the lights, so the only light in the room was the sun from outside, filtered by thick white curtains. "Are you feeling better?" She walked to the bed, and saw the same scene as when she left. Christine was huddled under the blankets with her head buried under a pillow.

"Meg," Christine murmured. "Hi."

Meg smiled and took out two Excedrin. "Hey babe, what's up? Here, I brought you some medicine." She held out her hand and grabbed a water bottle from her desk. "Take these, you'll feel better."

A tiny white hand peeked out and searched blindly for the medicine. "Christine, you have to get up babe, you've got to drink some water, ok?"

"My head hurts." Christine whined. For once, Meg wasn't completely annoyed; at times like these, she could see how Christine pulled at people's heartstrings. She was just so... helpless. Pathetic, even.

"I know, the medicine's going to make it all better ok? Sit up, come on," Meg helped her out of the covers into a semi sitting position. Christine scrunched up her face in pain, and Meg could see she was a second away from breaking out into tears. She hastily handed her the water and medicine.

"Christine-" Meg said suddenly. "What happened to your ear?"

Christine dazedly reached up and touched her left earlobe. When she pulled her finger away, there was dried blood on it. "I don't remember." she said faintly. "Owww..." Finally, her eyes filled with tears and she touched her forehead. "My head!"

"Shhh, don't cry, it's ok, I'm going to get you a cold washcloth, ok?" Meg said quickly. She ran to the bathroom and back and gently pushed Christine back onto the pillow with the cloth on her forehead. "Shh, shh, shh, don't cry, it's ok," she cooed. Inwardly, Meg sighed and self evaluated- when had she agreed to be nursemaid to a seventeen year old baby? This was Sauna's thing, not hers. Sauna was the nurturer, the mama bear, and Meg was the practical one, the stoic partner.

"Owww..." Christine sobbed, covering her face with trembling hands. "My h-h-head hurts!"

"I know, just close your eyes and try to go to sleep, ok?" Meg whispered. She pushed some curls away from Christine's forehead and held the cold compress in place. "Where were you Christine? Will you tell me please?"

She shook her head and kept crying. "I don't remember. I forgot."

Meg groaned. 'I forgot' was usually Christine's way of saying that she did something and she was scared to get in trouble for doing it. And usually, when it came to men, it wasn't her who would be in trouble. "Ok," Meg silently let it go. "But if you remember, I'm right here. Please call someone if you're going to be out like that Christine- call me, or Mom, or Sauna, or Raoul, or _some_one- wait a second-" She suddenly narrowed her eyes. "Were you with Raoul?"

Christine sobbed louder. "My head!" she wailed. "Raoul will be mad at me!"

"Did he do something to you, Christine?" Meg demanded. "If he did, you can tell me. It's not your fault, Christine, it's not-" She was interrupted by a sudden knocking at the door. Christine gasped and her teary eyes flew open nervously. "Who is it?" she whimpered, trying to move.

Meg pressed her back down and put the compress on her forehead again. "Shh, sit back and go to sleep. I'll get it." She stood and walked to the door, and raised her eyebrow at the visitor. "Well, well, speak of the devil and he shall appear." she said coldly.

Raoul smiled uncertainly. He held out a daisy abruptly. "H-hi Meg," he said. He had never met a lesbian before. She looked normal to him, he didn't know what his dad's problem was. "Is Christine here? I'm Raoul, her boyfriend."

Meg narrowed her eyes and motioned for him to step outside with her. She shut the door quietly and pointed her finger at him steadily. "If you did anything to her, I swear to you that I will personally cut off your dick and sauté it in a light mint sauce. Where were you last night?"

"Wh-_what_?" Raoul asked. He looked abashed, his eyes were wide and his skin paled slightly. Maybe this was what his father meant. "What are you talking about?"

"Christine!" Meg hissed. "Were you with her last night?"

"N-no, I was..." he trailed off guiltily and fixed his eyes on her shoes. "I uh, was, in my dorm-"

"You were getting high." Meg finished. She had heard from Christine all about the wonders of Raoul and his 'magic cigarettes.' She rolled her eyes and touched her temples. "Was Christine with you?"

"No, why?" Raoul furrowed his brow in concern. "I was coming to see if she wanted to get some pizza, is she ok? What's going on?" He moved to open the door, but Meg stopped him.

"Wait, wait, I'm sorry," she sighed. "I didn't mean to say you did anything, I just- she's got a really bad headache, and she only gets them when she..." Meg bit her lip and avoided his eyes uneasily. "She only gets them like this when she's stressed out."

"A headache?" Raoul repeated. He knew what he did when he got headaches. "Well is she ok?"

"Yeah, she'll be fine, she just needs to take it easy for the rest of the day, you know, sleep it off..." Meg trailed off and smiled widely at the blonde. "Ok? Thanks for checking up on her, I'll tell her you stopped by! Bye bye!" She tried to open the door and wave him away, but he suddenly narrowed his eyes.

"Wait!" he stopped her. "Do you know where she was last night?"

"Uh..."

"Because I called her, and she never answered her phone, and usually she does. You don't think she was with another guy, do you?" Raoul looked scandalized. Pfft, Meg thought. If only you knew, lover boy.

"What?" she pretended to look outraged. "Are you kidding me? Every day I get my daily dose of Raoul, trust me, she wasn't with another guy. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go check on her. I'll make sure she calls you when she's feeling better, BYE!" She quickly shut the door in his face. Raoul kicked the floor dejectedly, and slowly walked back to his dorm.

"Meg," Christine whispered tearfully. "Where's Baby? I want Baby."

Meg groaned silently and grabbed the old teddy bear from her basket on the dresser. "Here you go, Chrissy," she sighed. "Go to sleep, ok? I'm going to the library for a few hours, I have my cell ok? Call me if you need anything." She took off her slippers, slipped on some tennis shoes, and put on her jacket. "Bye," she called softly.

"Bye bye," Christine whispered, clutching Baby to her chest. "I love you Baby," she cooed tearfully. "I love you, love you, love you, Baby..." She kissed the ratty stuffed animal on the top of her head and smoothed the fur on her face. "You love me too, right Baby? I know you do." She yawned and finally fell asleep.

"Mom, I hate this stuff. I'm not good at it, get Jude to help you, he likes this kinda thing." Alex complained, angrily shaking the spoon over the sink. "The only thing I know how to make is sushi."

"Don't you want to learn something new, dear?" Becky replied mildly, slicing the plantains with an expert hand. "Why don't you try making the ceviche or the rice?" Tonight was Costa Rican. She had even bought some Latin music at the store earlier in the day.

"No," Alex replied grumpily. "I think we should call Jude in here to help us."

"What about Jude?" A deep voice from behind them murmured. He gently put his hands on Alex's shoulders and kissed the base of her neck. "Are you giving your lovely mother trouble?" he scolded Alex with a grin. "After everything she's done for us? After all the _food_ she's cooked for us?"

Alex rolled her eyes while her mother beamed. "Puh-lease," she laughed. "Wipe your nose."

His eyes widened and he laughed in shock. Becky's jaw dropped and she swatted her daughter with a towel. "Alex!" she exclaimed. "Watch your mouth!"

"What did she say?" An even deeper voice demanded from the kitchen door. They all spun around in fright as Erik slowly thundered into the room. Alex frowned; ever since she was a kid, he always had the uncanny ability to make whatever room he was standing in seem much smaller in comparison to his immense height. She narrowed her eyes and held her spatula in front of her protectively; he was very intimidating.

"Nothing," she said flippantly, turning back to the counter. "We were just cooking, Dad."

He arched an eyebrow and turned to Becky. "What did she say?" his face softened, and Jude relaxed slightly. Just slightly.

Becky wiped her hands on her apron and pointed to Jude with her wooden spoon. "She called Jude a brown noser just because he was being polite to me. Isn't that terrible, Erik?" She winked and got back to cooking.

Erik nodded solemnly. "It's awful. She's so disrespectful, Becky, I don't understand. After we pay for college, apartments, violins, books, music, everything she wants... do you treat your parents like that?" he suddenly barked at Jude.

Jude actually squeaked; Alex snickered under her breath. "I love my parents very much, sir," he smiled anxiously. He felt like curtsying or something; he hoped that was a good answer.

Erik grunted and sat down at the table with the newspaper. "What's for dinner?" he asked mildly, opening up to the business section. When he saw the stocks, he winced.

"A-rose con po-lo, cevich-ee, and plantains." Becky replied with a smile. "Tonight is Costa Rican!"

"A_rroz_ con _pollo_," Erik corrected. He slipped his glasses on and squinted at the tiny newspaper font. "Cevich_e_."

Becky rolled her eyes and waved her spoon in the air. "Whatever, you know what I mean. And I never could get that 'r' rolling down pat. Alex, hand me the salt."

_Buzz!_

"Someone's phone!" Becky called over her shoulder. Erik felt it in his pocket; he pulled the cell out and frowned when he saw Nadir's name flashing across the screen. "It's mine," he called. "It's Nadir."

"Oooh, answer it and invite him to dinner!" Becky exclaimed. Alex cocked her head thoughtfully. "Who's that?"

"You probably don't remember him, he was very close to your father when you were a baby," Becky replied. "He moved away to do God-knows-what overseas, but he just started working at Wesleyan this year. Small world, hmm?"

Alex nodded and Jude leaned his elbows on the counter. "What does he teach?" he asked curiously.

"Uhh... hmm, something different, I can't remember..." she frowned and pushed back her bangs. "Erik, what does Nadir teach?"

He held up his hand and indicated the phone on his ear. Becky frowned. "I think it was... gender studies!" she exclaimed suddenly. Erik shushed her from the other side of the kitchen. "That's what it was, gender studies!"

"My wife was shouting, I didn't hear you- who did you have pizza with?" Erik said into the phone, shooting Becky a dirty look. She stuck out her tongue at him.

"Raoul, I had pizza with Raoul!" Nadir repeated. "His girlfriend was sick or something, I went with him instead."

"How terrible. Nadir, you're a middle aged man. Why do you fraternize with the students? That's against school policy!" Erik scolded.

"You are what you feel," Nadir replied serenely. "And I definitely do not feel like a middle aged man."

"Whatever." Erik rolled his eyes. "Becky would like me to invite you to dinner tonight. Would you care to attend?"

"Erik dahling, my smoking jacket is at Maria's, the maid's, I'll just _have_ to take a rain check-"

"Becky insists." Erik interrupted through clenched teeth.

"Oh, well in that case!" Nadir laughed in a high falsetto. "Why didn't you say so, old chap?"

"Don't call me that." Erik snapped. "Are you coming or not?"

"Erik!" Becky hissed from the counter. Alex and Jude looked from him to her like a tennis match. "Be polite!"

He held up his hand and shushed her again. "Well?"

"Very well, I'll have to have my driver Manuel take me-"

"Right. Be here at seven. Good bye."

"Meg," Christine whispered in the dark. "I miss my Mommy and Daddy."

Meg's fingers froze over her laptop keyboard. "Christine, your parents are dead," she said gently but firmly. "They're dead."

"Do you think they miss me too?" she wondered dreamily.

"They're dead, Christine!" Meg raised her voice a little; she hated it when Christine got like this, it was downright spooky. "They're dead, ok babe? Gone, they're not coming back."

"Baby doesn't miss them." Christine murmured sadly. "They were mean to her, I don't know why..."

"Christine, would you-" Meg sighed and put her head in her hands. "Would you try to go back to sleep, please? I don't think that headache's worn off completely."

"Do you miss your Mommy?" Christine asked. "She's nice to me."

"Sometimes I miss her," Meg replied steadily. "But it's nice to have a little independence, and she's only a few hours away."

"My arm hurts." Christine said suddenly. "Ow."

Meg exhaled and helplessly shut her laptop. She threw a blanket over the lamp and switched it on; the room turned a warm, dim peachy pink. "Let me see it," she said, walking over to Christine's bed. She picked up a loose Barbie from the floor and sat it gently on Christine's little shelf with the rest of them.

"Ow." Christine declared softly, holding out her right arm.

Meg held it up and gasped; there was a huge black and blue on her forearm. It even looked a little swollen. "Christine, how did you get this?" she asked urgently. She knew Christine bruised extremely easy, but not to the extent of the one on her arm.

"I forgot." Christine sighed. "It hurts."

"Christine, please tell me," Meg begged. "Did someone hurt you? You won't get in trouble, I swear-"

"Ow!" Christine frowned petulantly and took her arm back. "You hurt it."

"Ok, it wasn't Raoul, right?" Meg said. She didn't think he had enough brain cells left to lie that well this morning.

"Raoul's my boyfriend." Christine smiled sweetly. "I like him, he has a really long-"

Meg held up her hand and shook her head. "I've heard! Yes, yes, I know, he's nice. Who were you with? Was it..." Suddenly a light flickered on in her head. "Were you with your professor?"

Christine giggled. "Which one?"

Meg cocked her head. "You tell me. Any of them?"

"Professor Destler is my favorite." Christine decided. "He's so nice to me, he gives me lunch."

"Does he give you anything else?" Meg asked warily.

"Kisses." Christine sighed. "Hugs and kisses and sometimes ice cream."

"Did he give you kisses last night?" Meg demanded. She was starting to get a little impatient; she had spoken to more articulate two year olds.

"No," her face darkened. "He forgot about me."

"So you weren't with him last night?" Meg deduced.

"No," Christine sighed. "I think I'll go back to bed now." She patted Meg's head and rolled over. "Goodnight."

Meg felt like screaming. "Goodnight Christine." she said simply. "I hope you feel better."


	15. Stay Away From Me

"So is this your math class?" Alex asked from her perch on his desk as the students filed in. She grabbed a banana from his lunch bag and threw the peel away nonchalantly.

"No, actually, this is my Comparative Literature class," Erik replied. He made a swipe for the banana, but she held it away and stuck out her tongue.

"This is _my _banana," she said smugly. "Mom packed it for _me_."

"It's in _my_ lunch bag," he complained. "I think that means it belongs to me."

"Uhh…" she pretended to think, and hopped off the desk. "No. No, you're wrong. What time does class start?"

He glanced up at the clock behind him, and double checked his watch. "In two minutes. Here, hand these out." He handed her a stack of papers with an extremely long list of authors and titles, and looked at the door.

Raoul burst through right as the second hand reached the hour. He grinned sheepishly at Erik and jogged to his seat, not before giving Alex an appreciative one over.

Erik growled.

Alex rolled her eyes and started passing out the papers. Several students looked at her curiously, and Melanie Daniels gasped when she saw the hint of a large tattoo under her sweater.

"So, hello everyone, I hope you all had a nice weekend," Erik began with a warm smile. He clapped his hand together and nodded at Alex. "This is my daughter, Alexandra, and she's visiting my wife and I for Thanksgiving. Everyone, say 'hello Alexandra'." He winked at his daughter and she rolled her eyes again.

"_Alex_", she corrected. "Not Alexandra."

"Hello Alex." The class said collectively. Erik grinned and gestured to the class. "I love them, they're all like my little robots, isn't it marvelous?"

"I thought you had a son," Someone called from the back.

"Yeah, the one on your desk," Someone else agreed.

Erik smiled and grabbed the framed picture of Zack from his desk. "I do," he said proudly. "This is Zachary, my two year old. Say 'hello Zachary,' everyone."

The class laughed and a couple raised their eyebrows. "How old are you?" A girl in the front row asked Alex bluntly.

"I'm twenty five." She said simply.

"You've got a twenty five year old and a _two_ year old?" the girl asked in disbelief. "Holy shit."

Erik blushed. "Zachary was…"

"An accident," Alex supplied. "Faulty condoms."

"Alex!" he scolded, turning redder. A few jocks started hooting and Raoul stood up in the back seat. "Get it, Doc!"

"Zack was a pleasant surprise." Erik said delicately. His eyes drifted to the back row when Raoul stood up, and he suddenly realized that the seat next to him, on the aisle, was empty. He furrowed his brow ad shrugged it off.

"But you're _old_," someone said. "Do old people still…"

"I beg your pardon!" Erik's eyes widened. "Yes, old people still… even though I wouldn't know, since I'm not old-"

"How old are you?" Raoul called from the back.

Older than your girlfriend. Who I'm sleeping with. By the way. Erik thought dryly.

"I'm forty nine." Erik groaned. "Now come on, that's enough, I want you all to look at this paper I gave you…"

Twenty minutes later, Alex collapsed into the desk at the front of the class. "Ugggh…" she moaned. "Teaching sucks, Dad. How do you do this?"

"Watch your language, Alex," he admonished her gently. "Try to at least sound like you went to an Ivy League, I want my money to be worth something."

"I hope _I_ don't become a teacher," she worried.

"Why would that happen?" he mumbled under his breath. He was grading papers as the class decided on what book, author, and culture they were going to study. "You don't like teaching."

"Yeah… but look at you-"

"I've heard I look pretty good."

"You were like this super smart revolutionary secret agent Bond guy and now… you teach math and English."

"Ahem. Partial Differential Equations and Comparative Literature, thank you very much. And I most certainly was not ever James Bond, I assure you. Did your mother tell you that?"

"She showed me some pictures. They looked hardcore to me."

Erik's eyes widened and he put down his papers. "Your mother showed you those pictures?" he asked angrily. "I told her never to show you those."

"Why not? They're cool. Why did you cut your hair, it was all long and cool-"

"You never saw those picture, understand me?" Erik said simply, turning back to his papers. "They are a figment of your imagination."

"Dad oh my God. How old am I? Self check? Twenty five. Not five. Fine. I get it. You know what else? Jude and I aren't sleeping together. Ha ha."

"AH." Erik squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. "Please. Stop."

Suddenly, Erik heard a squeaking from his right side. He glanced over, and saw the door slowly swinging open. A curly head peeked around it.

"Professor?" Christine mumbled. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Erik dropped his papers and stared. He had never seen Christine so subdued _ever_. He had never heard her speak so quietly. And he had never seen her look so… sad.

"Christine, of course, it's fine dear, here, we're just working on this-" he handed her a paper and she took it limply. "Have a seat."

Alex poked him and pointed to her stomach. He grabbed a granola bar out of his lunch bag and Christine's eyes lit up. She missed Alex's stomach rubbing, and was about to extend her hand when the older girl grabbed the food from Erik's hand and grinned at him happily.

"Thank you Daddy," she said, kissing his unmasked cheek.

Christine bowed her head and slowly walked to her seat. "Christine!" Raoul exclaimed in excitement. "Hey baby, where've you been? I went looking for you this weekend."

"I didn't feel well." She sighed, resting her head on the desk. She gazed at Erik and his pretty daughter and felt her stomach rumble. "Raoul?" she whispered. "Do you have any food?"

"No, babe, I'm sorry. I ate it all." He grinned and belched proudly.

"Ewww…" she wrinkled her nose. "That's yucky!"

"Sorry, I was just showing off." He grinned sheepishly. "Hey, are you ok?"

"Yes," she sighed sadly. "I'm a little sleepy."

"Go to sleep," he advised. "Take a nap, you can lean on my lap and I'll give you my sweatshirt."

"Ok," she yawned. She was just about to descend when she saw Erik hand his daughter a Fruit Roll-Up and juice box from under his desk, and then kiss her forehead.

Those were _her_ Fruit Roll-ups. Those were _her_ juice boxes. She stood up.

"I'll be right back." She declared, grabbing her sheet of paper. She sauntered down to the front of class, swinging her nonexistent hips again, and stopped at his desk.

"Pro-fess-oooor," she purred, leaning over the desk and the papers he was grading. "I need help."

Erik paled. He knew this Christine. This was the Christine he recognized. He gulped and was wondering what set her off, when he saw the snacks he had just given his daughter.

_Shit_.

"Hello Christine," he tried to smile calmly. "What can I do to- for you?"

She giggled and chewed on her pencil flirtatiously. Alex sat back and raised her eyebrow.

"I don't understand this," she said with big eyes. "It's so hard."

"Well… come here, why don't you pull up a chair and I'll explain it to you?" he offered nervously.

"Noo…" she whined, glancing around anxiously, refusing to look at Alex. "Can we go to your office?"

"Here, you can take my chair," Alex offered, standing up slightly.

"No!" Christine snapped petulantly, crossing her arms across her chest defensively. "I want to go to your office!" She turned to Erik and started sniffling. "I don't understand this…" she whispered. "It's hard…"

"Ok, ok, ok," he relented and stood up. "Alex, watch the fort Pumpkin?"

Alex was still staring at Christine in shock. She nodded wordlessly, and sat back down in her chair. She could've sworn that as Christine followed her father, she even stuck out her tongue…

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Erik hissed once he shut the door behind them. "What were you thinking?"

"Are you mad at me?" she bleated, trying to give him a hug. "Please don't be mad at me…"

"You're damn right, I'm mad at you!" he said angrily. "What was that scene with my daughter right now?"

"You don't like me anymore." She started to cry and curled up on the floor against the couch. "You don't like me!"

"What are you talking about?" Erik demanded. "Get up!"

"You gave her my juice!" Christine wailed, covering her face. "You like her more than me!"

Erik softened. He looked at her skeletal little wrists and bony knees, and slowly sat down next to her. His knees creaked.

"Christine," he said in an even voice. "Alex is my daughter. You're not. I have a different relationship with her, sweetheart. Do you understand?"

She shook her head and kept her face covered. He heard sniffling.

"Alex is my baby, Christine. I made her, she's my daughter. That's very different than what you and I have." He tucked a curl behind her ear and started rubbing her back.

"But I thought I was your baby." Christine sniffled, burying her face in his chest finally. "I thought I was your baby."

"Christine, you're my student, and my…" he struggled to find the words to describe their relationship. "I don't kiss Alex the way I kiss you."

"Yes you do!" she cried. "I saw you!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, aghast. "That's disgusting!"

"You kissed her here," Christine sniffled pointing to her forehead. "Right there."

"Oh, well, that's different." He choked. "I don't make love to anyone the way I make love to you," he whispered, kissing her forehead and then right behind her ear. "Not even Becky."

"Not even Alex?"

"Especially not Alex, Christine. That's called incest. Ew."

"What's incest?" she whispered.

"Family members having inappropriate relationships." He explained. "That's very bad."

"Like you and Mrs. Becky?" Christine wondered.

"No, we're married, Christine. We're supposed to be inappropriate."

"But… you're family."

"But we're not related by blood!" Erik said in exasperation. Maybe he took it for granted, but he always thought incest was an easy concept to understand. GROSS.

"So if you're not related by blood it's ok?"

"No! Listen, Christine, it's just bad. I can't stay here, I have to go back-" He glanced at the door longingly and frowned in her direction. "I don't want Alex getting any thoughts about us, do you understand me?"

Christine lowered her eyes and shrugged sadly. "Idunnommhmm." She mumbled under her breath.

"No, look at me." Erik knelt down and took her chin in his hand sternly. "I want you to stay away from me while she's here. I want you to behave yourself in class. Don't touch me, don't talk to me, don't even look at me. Alex is smart, and she will notice. Do you understand?"

"You're hurting me," she whined, trying to pull her chin back. "Leave me alone, I don't like you."

"Christine, do you understand me? If she notices something, I will never forgive you." He gulped before he decided to add the next part. "And you will get in very big trouble. You'll get kicked out of school, and Raoul won't like you anymore."

Her eyes filled with tears. "I will?" she whispered. She blinked her eyes and bit her lip. "I don't want to leave here…"

"Then behave. Understand?"

She nodded sadly and sighed when he let go of her chin. "You don't like me anymore?" she whispered.

"Not as much as my daughter." He replied.

Alex raised an eyebrow questioningly at her father as he opened the door. "Hey," she smiled uncertainly. "Everything ok?"

Erik smiled falsely and nodded in approval as Christine silently walked back to her seat in the back of the classroom. "Yes, everything's fine. I'm sorry about that, she's a little…" he tapped his head and smiled sadly.

Alex's eyes widened and followed Christine as she sat down next to Raoul. The blonde took her hand and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He said something to her, but she shook her head and her head simply descended into his lap.

"What's wrong with her?" Alex asked in a hushed voice.

Erik blushed guiltily and shrugged. "She's just… she's very emotional. She's a nice girl I guess, but I think she has some… issues. Don't worry about it, Pumpkin," he smiled, patting her shoulder. "You're perfect."

Alex smiled up at him and rolled her eyes. "You're just saying that Dad, come on!"

"I'm not! How many people here can say their daughters got almost full rides to Ivy Leagues?"

"Probably a few," she replied. "This is a university, most university professors' kids go on to good universities, duh…"

"Whatever. You're the best. Where would you like to go to lunch?" He pulled her hair back and stroked the top of her head. "So pretty," he smiled.

"Mmm… ooh, let's go to Mom's friend's place, that bakery!" she exclaimed. "They have the best apple pie ever."

Erik winced and groaned. "Melanie's place? The Boulangerie?"

"Yeah, that's it! Why, you don't like it?" Alex frowned, and Erik sighed. "No, it's good food, I just know she'll want to socialize with us, and then she'll invite us to dinner… and then I'll have to laugh and drink with her pervert husband-"

"Pervert husband? What?" Alex raised her eyebrow. Just the way he did. He smiled inwardly; she looked just like him when she did it.

"Her husband! He's a sicko, he goes after his students and talks to me like it's no big deal, like everyone does it or something." Erik muttered uncomfortably.

"What, you don't go after your young and nubile students?" Alex teased. "Not even the mentally unstable ones, like that girl? She would probably be easy to take advantage of, you know, if she's…" she tapped her head and laughed.

Erik frowned. "Alex, stop that, that's not funny." He paled and glanced in the back row; Christine's head was presumably under the desk; he hoped she was only resting her head. _Easy to take advantage of…_ He felt a cold sweat begin to trickle down his neck.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she said quickly. "I'm just kidding, that was mean. So come on, let's go, who cares, just tell her no if she asks us to dinner!"

"Ughh…" Erik groaned and glanced at his watch. It was time for class to finish; some students saw, and started gathering their belongings.

"Fine, we'll go there." He relented. "Are you going home after that, or are you coming back with me?"

"I've got to check on Jude; Mom's probably driving him up the wall, she always wants a cooking partner. Will you drop me off at her place?" Alex asked.

Erik grunted at the mention of Jude's name and nodded. "I suppose," she sighed dramatically. "Alex, honey, what do you see in him? He's so…" he wrinkled his nose. "So radical."

"This is coming from the man who used to have a ponytail and almost died in a bombing accident. Right, Jude is radical." Alex rolled her eyes. "Dad, he's got a few tattoos. He works in a tattoo shop! He's a nice guy, you'd like him if you got to know him."

"I told you you never saw those pictures." Erik muttered. "They do not exist, and it wasn't an _accident_."

"Whatever. You know, you seem to keep forgetting that I met Jude at Columbia, Dad. You have to be smart to go there."

"I know that!" Erik snapped.

"Well, then…" she shrugged. "But if you _really_ want to know why I'm with him…" she grinned and wiggled her eyebrows.

"Alex!" Erik squeaked. He slapped her wrist and held up his hand. "Watch your mouth, I never want to hear that kind of disgusting talk from you again! Do you understand?"

Alex rolled her eyes. "Relax," she laughed. "Twenty first century, calm down."

Erik rolled his eyes. "I'll never understand you kids. Come on, let's go to lunch."


	16. Meeting New People

"Christine…" Erik said warily. "What are you doing?"

"I'm- I'm looking for my pencil," she stammered nervously, keeping her head hidden under her desk. He bent down slightly, as much as he could without his back going out, and furrowed his brow.

"Christine, your pencil is right here. Now why don't you get off the floor before you have an asthma attack, and I have to stop class to take you to the hospital." He said sternly waving the pencil under the desk.

"No!" she insisted, gently pushing the pencil- careful not to touch his hand- away. "I- I lost my eraser too," she mumbled tremulously. "I have to find my eraser!"

"Christine, stop fooling around, and get off the floor!" Erik hissed, bending down even more. She covered her face and shook her head.

"My eraser," she whispered. "I need my eraser."

"You're making a scene," he growled, glancing back at his daughter nervously. "What did I tell you on Monday?"

She started to whimper. "You told me not to look at you!" she sniffled. "I'm not looking at you! You told me not to touch you, and I'm not touching you. Stop talking to me, because I'm not supposed to talk to you!"

"I want you to get off the floor this instant, and sit up and behave like a regular human being, that's what I want you to do!" he snapped. He glanced around again, but the class was absorbed in listening to Alex talk about some of the books on the list. He thanked God Christine always sat in the back of the class.

"Why would you tell me to do all of that if you don't want me to do it?" she sniffed. "I'm doing what you told me to do, and- and-" Her lower lip started trembling. "You're yelling at me!"

"That's it, Christine." Erik said nervously. "I can't- I can't deal with this right now, not with Alex here. I want you to clean up, and when you're presentable again, I want you to leave. Don't make a scene, just quietly walk out. Do you understand me?"

She slowly let her hands fall down from her face. They were still trembling. "You want me to leave?" she whispered.

"Yes, Christine, I want you to leave. Just for today, you can come back on Friday, but today I can see that you're in no condition to be here."

"But… I did everything you told me to," she whispered uncertainly. "I was being good."

"No, no, you're _not_ being good, you're doing nothing but raising my blood pressure!" he snapped.

Her eyes widened and filled with tears. She scooted back from him and took the pencil he had dropped with trembling fingers. She looked almost… scared.

"I'm sorry." She whispered. She put her head down and waited for him to leave. "I'll go now."

"Christine, please," Erik began guiltily. Now he felt bad. "Please, darling, I just- it's Alex, do you understand?" He reached out to touch her cheek, but she turned her head away and made a little noise in her throat. Her stomach growled loudly.

"Christine," he whispered. "You're hungry, I'm sorry, I forgot-"

"I have to go now." She whispered, crawling out from under the desk and grabbing her things. She hugged her books to her chest and jogged to the door. It slammed behind her.

The class stopped and stared. And then slowly turned to the direction she had come from. Erik shrugged weakly and made his way down the stairs. Alex looked at him in concern.

"Dad, what's going on?" she asked, jerking her head in the direction of the door. "What's her problem?"

"I told you, she's just… she's troubled, that's all. Don't worry about it." He assured her distractedly. "And don't tell your mother." He added in a nervous voice.

Alex raised her eyebrows. "Why not?" she asked.

"I just- I just don't want her worrying about silly things, that's all," Erik replied impatiently. "Be Daddy's good girl, mm? You know Mom, she wants to save the world and then cook everyone a pie afterwards. If she knew I had an… emotionally distressed girl in my class… well, you know. Besides, we know her boyfriend's family, Raoul, I just- it's better to keep this quiet." He patted Alex's head and turned to the class.

Alex crossed her arms and nodded blankly. "Whatever you say…" she muttered uncertainly. She looked at the door suspiciously, and started walking towards it. "Bathroom," she mouthed to her father, walking outside. He nodded distractedly, and continued talking to the class.

Once outside, Alex narrowed her eyes and looked around. Her father's office was right in between the English and math labs, considering he taught both subjects. She slowly started making her way down the English hallway.

"… and then Raoul, you know Raoul her boyfriend? Yeah, well, _he_ knocks on the door, like, right when I'm asking her where she was, and I opened the door, right, and I basically threatened to cut off his balls and like, season them with garlic or something, I forgot, something my Mom does to chicken, I just like blurted it out- whoops, sorry," A pretty blonde girl accidentally bumped into Alex and smiled. She was walking with an extremely tall, slender Alek Wek look-a-like.

"Oh no problem," Alex murmured with a smile. She continued on her way, then stopped suddenly.

_Raoul_…_ Raoul!_

Where had she heard that name before? What a weird name! But she couldn't put a face to it; it sounded so familiar! She slowly turned on her heel and began walking behind the duo.

"And I was like please, Christine, seriously, just tell me, what happened! But you know, you've seen her-"

The taller girl nodded gravely. "Mmmhmm," she agreed. "I know."

"She clams up! She told me she forgot. Right. You remember that guy I told you about, at the beginning of the year? The RA who convinced her she had to like, blow him if she wanted to stay in the dorms?"

The tall girl nodded and tried to suppress a guilty chuckle. "I remember that," she said softly. "She believed him too."

"You're damn right, she did! Giving that asshole a blowjob every day, and guess who was getting migraines every day for a month. Thank God we finally figured it out."

The girls opened the door and stepped outside, still chattering. Alex slowed to a stop and crossed her arms.

_Christine_… well the crazy girl in her father's class was named Christine. But it wasn't exactly an uncommon name. Still… _Raoul_… where had she heard that name?

_Bingo_!

Suddenly she remembered. "_Besides, we know her boyfriend's family, Raoul, I just- it's better to keep this quiet." _Not even ten minutes ago, her father had just said that name to her!

It had to be the same Christine and Raoul, she thought. There was no way there was another Raoul out there, in the Western Hemisphere, unless he lived in Canada or something. It was way too weird of a name. Who named their kid that, anyway?

She shook her head and headed outside. The two girls were long gone; in fact, the courtyard looked completely empty. She rubbed her arms- it was getting chilly- and started making her way to the next building. _Social Studies…_

"You're Professor Destler's friend." It wasn't a question; it sounded like an uncertain observation. Nadir took his feet off his desk and spun around slowly.

"That I am," he replied smoothly. He looked at his visitor over his glasses and cocked an eyebrow. "Do you- belong here?" He cleared his throat. "Shouldn't you be… in school or something?"

"I am in school." Christine replied with wide eyes. They looked a little red. She took a step closer. "This is my school. I go here."

"Jesus Henry Christ, doll," Nadir smiled and sat back. "You look like you're twelve years old."

She smiled shyly and looked down. "I'm seventeen," she murmured.

"Seventeen, it's been a while," Nadir sighed wistfully. "Hmmm, I wonder… what's that times two?"

"Thirty four." She replied immediately.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You're quick. How about times three?"

She bit her lip, blinked, and blurted, "Fifty… one. Fifty one. I think."

Nadir smiled. "That's better. That's around how old I am. Three times your age. I could be your Granddaddy, little girl. What's your name?"

"Christine." She smiled and blinked her pretty eyes. "Christine Olympia. Like the doll. That's what my Grandma said."

"Christine Olympia?" Nadir smiled. "So what are you doing here in my office, Christine Olympia? How can I help you? How do you know my friend, Professor Destler?"

"I remember Professor talking to you. You're his friend. I wanted to say hi," she said softly. She looked down and sniffled. "He doesn't like me anymore."

Nadir smiled and tilted his head. "Let me tell you a secret, doll." He beckoned, and her eyes widened as she took another step closer.

"Yes?" she whispered breathlessly.

"I don't think he likes me much either," Nadir said in a fake whisper. Christine frowned sadly. "You too?" she asked. "Why not?"

Nadir shrugged. "I smoke too much pot, he said. He says I'm a bad example. What do you think about that?"

She tilted her head. "What's pot?"

Nadir grinned widely. "Oh my," he said. "I can't tell you that!"

Her eyes widened even more. He wondered how big they could get. They looked pretty darn big right now. "Tell me," she begged. "Please tell me!"

"I'll show you." He offered. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a joint. "This is pot," he explained, rolling it her way.

"Oooooh…" she murmured. "It's a magic cigarette."

Nadir grinned. "Yeah, baby, I guess you could call it that. You ever seen one of them before?"

She bit her lip and nodded. "Raoul gives them to me- oh!" She slapped her hand to her mouth in terror. "Oops," she whispered. "I'm not supposed to tell you that."

"Raoul…" Nadir's grin widened. "I know who you are now. Christine, Christine in Comp Lit with Erik, that's right… I saw you, that day he was giving you tutoring." You had such a cute little ass, he remembered fondly.

"Please don't tell Raoul I told you that," she begged in a whisper. "I'm not supposed to tell, he said he'll get in trouble. I don't want him to get in trouble. I'll do whatever you want," she bit her lips and slowly sat on his desk.

"Are you offering me what I think you're offering me?" Nadir asked with a raised eyebrow. He stuck the unlit joint between his lips and blew.

She furrowed her brow and shrugged. "Um, I dunno," she whispered. She squeezed her thighs together and wrung her hands in her lap.

"You know this is illegal, right?" he asked, gesturing to her slowly rising skirt hem and him.

"What's illegal?" she asked uncertainly. She scooted closer to him and fluttered her eyelashes. "Please don't tell Raoul. I don't want him to get mad at me."

Nadir grinned. "Go close the door, baby doll."

Alex aimlessly strolled through the Social Studies building, searching for… she wasn't quite sure what she was searching for. She really wasn't searching for anything. What had she expected to find when she went after the odd girl from her father's class?

She turned around the corner and was promptly pushed to the ground.

"Ow, holy shit!" she muttered, grabbing her elbow. "My funny bone…" She looked up, and saw- Raoul! Sitting on his butt, right across from her.

"Whooooa…" he murmured. "Sorry about that, I didn't see you coming." He sighed loudly and fell back, so that he was lying… on his back.

She frowned. "Are you ok?" she asked sharply, getting to her feet and dusting her butt off. She knelt down next to him and poked his shoulder. His eyes were closed.

"Hey beautiful," he crooned, opening one eye when she poked him. "What's new, pussycat? Whoooa-ooooh-whooooa-ooooh-whoooa…"

Alex leaned closer and sniffed. She scoffed and hit his shoulder. Pot. "Get up!" she snapped. "Are you completely high or are you just mellowed out?"

"I'm mellow, baby, I'm mellow. I'm a mellow yellow." Raoul mumbled, slowly climbing to his feet. "I'm a mellow yellow, look at my hair doll."

"Doll? What year were you born in, 1988?" she scoffed. "Who do you think you are, Cat Stevens?"

"Peace Train sounding louder…" Raoul replied in a high falsetto. "So, why are we… I mean, are we going to the same place, is that why you knocked me down? Where are we going dude?" He blinked and looked around. "Hey. Nadir's here. I think that's where I'm going. Where are _you_ going?"

She raised an eyebrow at him and squinted. He was pretty tall, and pretty ripped. He was a good looking guy, in all honesty; he had that prom king sort of look to him. His parents were probably Republicans.

"I'm going to Professor Destler's class," she said slowly. "He's my dad. Now I'm going to leave you here, ok? I'm very sorry for knocking into you. Can you make it to your destination?"

"Professor Destler!" His eyes widened and he slapped his forehead. "Shit! Why… do I feel like… something's not right? I forgot." He frowned and started tapping his head.

"Well, he has a Comp Lit class right now," Alex offered. "And I remember you were in his class on Monday… so you're probably supposed to be there right now, since it's Wednesday…"

"Whoa!" Raoul frowned and pointed to her. He squinted his eyes. "… it's Wednesday?"

"Yes, it's Wednesday. Hey, listen, why don't we take a walk outside? You don't need to be in any class when you're higher than a kite. Get a little fresh air." She gently took his arm and guided him outside.

"So have you been smoking all morning?" she began conversationally. A crisp wind blew and she shuddered and leaned closer to him.

"Uh… no. No, wait, yes." He frowned. "I don't remember. I don't think- what time is it?"

"Almost eleven. Class has probably been let out already." She said matter of factly.

Raoul giggled. "Yeah, class has been let out," he repeated softly. He giggled again. "Who let the dogs out…"

"You know, I'm all for a little recreational cannabis to help me relax after a long day," Alex began. "But you should really check yourself if you make it a habit to walk around campus like this. It's not good."

"Check yourself before you wreck yourself." Raoul agreed solemnly.

"Exactly. Everything in moderation-"

"Including moderation." Raoul sighed and began whistling. They walked to a bench and he leaned back and closed his eyes.

Alex smiled. "That's Horace Porter," she said in surprise. "Nobody knows who he is."

"No, that's Raoul de Changy, and everyone knows who he is." Raoul corrected her sleepily, pointing to his chest. "I'm Raoul, not Horace. Is someone looking for me?"

"No, nobody is looking for you." Alex laughed. "It's nice to meet you Raoul, I'm Alex."

"Hello, Alex," Raoul yawned. "Hello, Zack…"

"You remembered!" she smiled. "See, you're not a complete Dead Head, you remember Monday's class."

"I am a Dead Head." Raoul sniffed. "And gratefully. I think I'll take a nap." He closed his eyes and within a moment, started to snore.

Alex shook her head in disbelief.

"How… how doth the little crocodile improve his shining tale," Christine murmured under her breath.

"And pour the water of the Nile on every golden scale." Nadir added with a lazy smile.

"How cheerfully he seems to grin-"

"How neatly he spreads his claws…" Nadir growled and went for her. She squealed and tried to crawl away but he caught her before she could. "Finish it!"

"And welcomes the little fishes in with gently smiling jaws!" she cried, turning to him with a wide smile. "I did it." She said proudly. "See, I read the whole poem."

"I think you need another hit, baby doll. Come here," he purred, beckoning her with the joint. Her eyes widened and she bit her lip eagerly.

He blew out a puff of smoke and she giggled. And giggled, and giggled, and giggled. Eventually, he laughed too.

"What's so funny?" he wheezed, passing her the weed.

She shrugged and hiccupped. "I forgot." This was immensely funny to her, and she giggled some more.

"M-m-mister Nadir," she mumbled.

"Christine Olympia… is it Oh-limp-ia or is it Oh-lamp-ya?" he wondered out loud, tapping his pen on his forehead gently.

"Can we watch the movie now? I want to watch… I want to watch the movie now." She propped her legs up on his desk and pouted in the direction of the TV.

"You," he looked at her over his glasses and pointed with his pen. "You, missy. I can see your panties."

She covered her mouth and blushed like a little girl. "Uh-oh," she whispered mischievously. She pulled her skirt up higher.

"Pull it up a little higher, and then we can watch the movie." He ordered, tapping her thigh with the pen.

"What color are they?" she giggled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"Well, let me see," he mumbled under his breath. He grabbed a pocket flashlight from his pen jar and pointed it between her legs. "Hmmm…" he adjusted his tinted glasses and pretended to think. "It appears to me… that they are… white… with a small violet swirl design. Am I correct, my dahling?"

She burst into peals of laughter. "I forgot!" She pulled up her skirt completely and checked herself. "Hmmm…" she traced a purple swirl with her finger and rested her head on her shoulder. "Swirly…"

"The movie is starting now, my lady," Nadir informed her. "Unless you want us to engage in more inappropriateness, I would advise you to cover your panties."

"Professor Destler says… he says I'm in-appro-pri-ate." She pouted and pulled her skirt down. "Am I inappropriate?" She suddenly started to cry.

Nadir nodded sympathetically and passed her the weed again. "He says that about me too. I think he says that about everybody."

"Not Alex!" she wailed. "He gave her my snacks! He gave them away! They were mine! Hey!" Her eyes widened suddenly. "I'm hungry."

"I've got the cure for munchies right here, baby doll," Nadir smiled, passing her a jumbo bag of potato chips.

She beamed and grabbed them greedily. Right as she popped the first one into her mouth and the credits to Alice in Wonderland began playing, Nadir's door was swung open.

"Nadir- I- do you remember those pictures, from like, thirty years ago…" Erik began. He looked up and his jaw dropped in shock. Ashes littered the desk, and Christine was sitting there, pretty as you please, with her feet up on the desk and her hand in a bag of chips.

"Hey Dude." Nadir greeted him with a salute. "Come and watch the movie with us."

Christine turned around to see who it was (the voice sounded so familiar…) and squeaked when she saw Erik. She jumped to her feet, felt dizzy, and promptly collapsed on the cold tile floor.

Nadir and Erik were both silent for a moment, as they stared at the girl at their feet.

"Shit!" Erik cursed, falling to his knees.

"Shit." Nadir said breezily, puffing out another smoke ring.

"Christine!" Erik said loudly. He patted her cheek a few times and lifted her head. "Christine! Wake up!"

"She alright?" Nadir asked, leaning over his desk to glance at her. "She was a little giggly; she's probably not used to smoking too much. Passed out."

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Erik bellowed, grabbing one of her tennis shoes and throwing it at him. "Are you out of your _mind_? She's _seventeen_!"

"Did you know that seventeen times three is fifty one?" Nadir grinned and turned back to Alice. "That's like… our age."

"You're a fucking idiot, did you know that?" Erik said angrily. "What if she has a concussion?"

"Erik, she passed out. Relax. Holy shit, it's not like you've never done it before. Remember when I fell down the stairs on the Eiffel Tower?"

"You were a grown man, not an innocent teenage girl," Erik said through gritted teeth. He lifted her from the floor and gently laid her down in Nadir's desk chair. "Why were you giving her this shit?"

"Hey, she's no innocent, let me tell you that," Nadir pointed out, glancing over his tinted glasses. "No, no, no!"

Erik spun around and grabbed the other man by his collar. "What the hell did you do to her?" he demanded. He looked crazed.

"Hey, dude, relax!" Nadir coughed. "What to fuck do you think I am, fucking Roman Polanski? I gave her a little pot, she came in here all upset, I wanted her to mellow out, that's all. I played a guessing game with her underwear, I didn't do anything to her. I don't even know why she came here, I've never met her, she was talking about _you_, actually…" he trailed off and nodded knowingly as Erik slowly let him go.

"Played a guessing game with her underwear?" Erik repeated in a low voice. "Can you please tell what the _fuck_ that is supposed to mean?"

Nadir giggled and puffed another smoke ring. "Well, see, she asked me to guess what color her panties were- oh wait, no, first I told her I could see her panties, cause she had her legs up here, she was showing me everything, Daddy-o, let me tell ya-"

"But you didn't do anything?" Erik clarified, pointing his finger accusingly.

"No the fuck way, Kennedy, she's like twelve years old, are you kidding me? We were just smoking and watching Alice in Wonderland, I keep it in here for my students." Nadir waved his hand dismissively.

"Alright. I apologize for-"

"For what, squeezing the pot outta my lungs?" Nadir rolled his eyes and flipped him the bird. "No, really, I should thank you for saving me that many brain cells. I really need them in this place."

"Right, well, I'm going to..." He leaned down and grabbed her sneaker. "She shouldn't be here, she should be… somewhere, at a nurse, somewhere…" he trailed off distractedly.

"Erik," Nadir began seriously, gazing at him over the tinted lenses. "Are you screwing her? Tell me the truth."

Erik paled, and then blushed. He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down. "What? No!" he said in false disgust. "What are you talking about, she's my student!"

"Good. And if you're not telling me the truth, it's a good thing, because I would've cut off your balls if you told me you were." Nadir continued. "You, me, and Becky go way back, and if you're two timing her with this _kid_, you bet your ass I'll take care of you."

Erik swallowed and nodded. "Well… well, it's a good thing I'm telling the truth, then, isn't it?" he said faintly.

"It's a very good fucking thing," Nadir agreed, still staring at him over the glasses. They were both silent for a moment, and then Nadir spoke again. "Well, either take her or leave her, she's in good hands here, we'll just keep watching Alice if she stays."

"No, I'm going to take her… I'll take her to the nurse, the health center, tell them she hasn't had much to eat, fainted…" He silently lifted her from the chair, and as he did, her eyes slowly opened.

"Professor?" she mumbled, inhaling the scent of his sweater. "'s that you?"

"Shh, Christine, yes, it's me, we're going to the nurse, ok? Say goodbye to Professor Nadir." He said, patting her head gently and walking to the door.

"Bye bye, Professor Nadir," she whispered, waving her hand weakly. "Thank you for the magic cigarettes."

"Anytime, Christine Olympia," he called. "Come back later and finish Alice with me."

"Ok," she yawned, and leaned her head back on Erik's shoulder.

"Christine, I don't want you smoking pot anymore, do you understand me?" Erik began slowly as they walked into the hallway. He looked around nervously; he really didn't want to be seen with a beautiful student smelling of pot in his arms. He walked outside.

"Anymore, anymore," she yawned again. "Okey dokey."

"No, really, it's bad for you, it makes you dumb." He explained gently. "Tell Raoul to stop too."

She smiled and lifted her little hand again. "Hi Raoul."

"What are you talking about, Raoul's not here. He wasn't in class today."

She giggled softly. "Raoul's right there, silly," she replied. "Hi Raoul. Uh oh. I don't like her."

"Don't like who? What are you talking about?" Erik muttered, turning around to see what she was talking about. His daughter stared him in the face, sitting next to Raoul, who was waving at Christine's back like an idiot.

"Dad?" she asked with raised eyebrows, pointing uncertainly at the sleepy girl in his arms. "What…?"

He smiled nervously and paled again. "Oh, well, hello, there, Alex."


	17. A Dinner Guest

"So can someone remind me again why she's here?" Alex muttered under her breath, gazing at the channel guide blankly. "I'm not getting it."

"Be nice," Jude tickled her sides from beneath her. She wiggled her butt and he grunted. "Ow, Jesus, Alex," he cursed. "They're sensitive."

She grabbed a handful of nuts from the side table and crunched loudly. "Man up." she replied simply. She held out her hand. "Nuts, lover boy?"

"No, thank you, I'm fine." He rolled his eyes and patted her thighs. "Let me up babe, I'm gonna ask your mom if she needs anything. Want something from the kitchen?" She crawled off his lap and turned to an episode of CSI. "No thanks," she smiled and blew him a kiss. "Hey, aren't I supposed to be the one being hospitable?"

"I'm better at it than you. Hey, I was thinking about getting a red pepper, look, right here-" he pointed to a small empty spot on his neck, still uncovered by tattoos. "What do you think? Your mom's cooking has inspired me."

She rolled her eyes. "What-ever. Go tell my dad that his wife's cooking has inspired you to get a tattoo of a chili pepper on your neck, and see what he says."

He laughed and walked out the door. He starting making his way down the hallway, toward the kitchen, when he remembered his cell phone in Alex's room, where he had been spending more and more time. They had yet to be caught by Il Duco; he still checked under the sofa bed nervously at nights.

He climbed the stairs and was about to enter Alex's room, when he heard a noise from the spare room. He froze, prepared to explain to Erik that _no_, he _swore_ he wasn't touching his daughter inappropriately, when the door opened slowly.

The small, curly haired girl with the big blue eyes from Erik's school peeked out shyly. Jude was still frozen; this time by awkwardness. What was he supposed to say? Hi, I'm your teacher's daughter's boyfriend?

"Er- hey there," he said with an uncertain smile. "You're awake. Feeling better?"

Her eyes still big, she nodded wordlessly. "What's your name?" she asked softly. She blinked, and Jude was reminded of Bambi.

"I'm Jude," he smiled again, wider this time, and held out his hand. "You're Christine, right?"

She slowly eased out of the room, looking around the second floor landing warily, and took his hand. He swallowed; they were so tiny. Even smaller than Alex's, with glittery clear nail polish covering miniscule shell pink nails. She nodded and tilted her head. "How do you know who I am?" she asked curiously.

Jude suddenly felt very uncomfortable, like he had accidentally walked in on someone in the bathroom or something. He didn't know why. He swallowed again. "Well, Mr. Destler told us, when you guys first got here, you were kind of out of it, I guess, he told us you were in his class."

"What's on your arm?" she asked suddenly, reaching out and grabbing him. He started from the shock, but quickly recovered. Her hands were so soft. She furrowed her brow and traced a tribal one uncertainly. "Are they tattoos?" She looked up at him in wonder, as though she had never seen a real tattoo in her entire life.

"Uh, yeah, I work in a tattoo shop actually, I'm a tattoo artist," Jude smiled proudly. He couldn't help but puff out his chest a little; he loved what he did. "See, these are called sleeves," he held out both of his arms and rolled up his shirt sleeves. Until he and Alex went back home, it was only long sleeved shirts for him.

"Oooh," she murmured, gazing at his arms and blinking steadily. "So pretty."

"Thanks." He grinned and rolled his sleeves back down. "So... are you- are you feeling better?"

She tilted her head again, and bit her lip, like she had to think about it. "Yes," she finally replied softly. She frowned and touched her forehead. "My head hurts a little- and I'm hungry..." she trailed off, rubbing her belly and giving him an... expectant stare? What did she want, for him to feed her? He barely knew her.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he smiled apologetically and laughed. "That's what you get for smoking too much. Mr. Destler told us you were pretty stoned when he found you at school."

She bit a pinkie nail delicately and blinked demurely. Somehow, he just couldn't really see this little cherub lighting up and getting high. She looked like she stepped out of a Botticelli painting, all dewy pink cheeks and waist length curls. "We were watching Alice," she giggled softly. "Twinkle twinkle little bat-"

"How I wonder where you're at." Jude laughed and nodded. "I love Alice. Don't tell your teacher, but it's an awesome movie to watch when you're high."

She gave her signature flirtatious giggle and (was he imagining things? He needed to get back to Alex, stat) batted her eyelashes invitingly. He cleared his throat and was about to make his exit when for once, Erik appeared and saved him.

"Christine," the older man began slowly in his deep voice. The voice he used when he suspected Alex (or lately, Christine) was doing something wrong. "What are you doing?"

She squeaked and spun around, wringing her hands nervously. He stepped out of his room and shut the door behind him. It clicked softly, ominously. "N-nothing," she replied in a higher pitched voice than usual. "Nothing sir. Thank you for bringing me here. I'll go now." Her eyelashes fluttered again, but not in flirtation this time. Jude saw blotchy patches of pink begin to appear on her cheeks. She started towards the stairs, but Erik stopped her.

"Christine, wait," he said in an uneasy voice. "Becky would like for you to stay for dinner, if you'd like. After that I can take you back to your dorm." He felt just as nervous as she looked, but he prayed he wasn't as obvious as her. Sweat droplets broke out in the small of his back.

Her eyes widened and she looked from him to Jude quickly, as though expecting one of them to burst out into laughter and shout, "Haha! Just kidding!" She shifted her weight from foot to foot and Erik was slightly reminded of a rabbit, about to bolt. Jude swallowed again and tried to look for an exit.

"You want me to stay for dinner?" she asked uncertainly. Her voice was dry. "Really?"

"Yes, if you would like," Erik wished she would just say yes and dispel the air of... awkwardness that had descended upon the odd trio in the upstairs hallway. He could see Jude nervously trying to find a way to leave, but Erik was having none of it. There was no way he would be left alone with Christine in his own house while his wife and daughter were downstairs; he wasn't risking any accusations of impropriety.

"O-ok," Christine agreed, still nervous, still glancing back and forth between the two men. "Thank you very much, sir. I-" she looked longingly down the stairs and somehow, Erik knew she wanted to see Becky. It disturbed him; that she wanted to see his wife, whom she had met all of one time, and that he _knew_ instinctively that was who she was looking for.

"Shall we?" he said formally, extending his arm towards the staircase. She and Jude nodded eagerly and followed him. They were met immediately with the smell of Becky's cooking; tonight smelled like good old Italian pasta. The daddy in Erik was relieved; Christine looked like she hadn't had a decent meal in weeks, and he wasn't sure if she would be up to trying one of Becky's more exotic concoctions.

"Erik, Alex, Jude!" Becky called from the kitchen. "Dinner, come in and eat!"

The three musketeers followed the sound of her voice dutifully. Christine gazed around Erik's house in awe, and he cursed himself for the stirring of tenderness, of that feeling that resembled lo- affection for the odd little girl in front of him. He suddenly longed to kiss her neck, and smell the baby powder and bubble gum and cotton candy scent she gave off.

In the kitchen, they met Alex and Zack, already sitting in his high chair at his mother's side. "Daddy!" he cooed, excitedly banging his spoon on the table. "Daddy, daddy, daddy!" He gasped theatrically and pointed. "Juuuuuice!"

"Hey little man, what's up?" Jude smiled and ruffled the kid's hair. Zack looked up and squinted. "Juice," he began seriously. "What you doing?"

Jude laughed and sat down. "We're about to eat dinner, little dude, your mommy made spaghetti. Doesn't it look good?" He pointed in the center of the table, and as Zack looked in that direction, his eyes caught Christine's. She was still standing next to Erik, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "Who that?"

Becky turned around to set the meat sauce on the table, and gasped when she saw Christine. "Oh, hello, dear!" she cried, rushing to her side. "You're awake! Are you feeling better? Here, come, sit down next to Alex, have some spaghetti," She guided the girl to the chair next to Alex and began serving her. Alex smiled frostily; Christine made what sounded like a little growl in the back of her throat. Trouble with him or not, Erik was still _her_ professor.

"Thank you very much," Christine replied happily. She beamed at Becky, and her flour spotted apron, and the faint smell of cinnamon and vanilla that emanated from her cream wool sweater. She looked like a Mommy. Christine decided she loved her.

"Of course, dear," Becky smiled and patted her shoulder. "What would you like to drink?"

"Apple juice?" Christine asked shyly. She stared at Becky with big cow eyes and smiled uncertainly. "Please?"

Becky felt her heart melting for the poor little girl who had been force fed marijuana by Erik's old friend. "Absolutely, I'll get you some. It's in a juice box, is that alright?" She held up the box and smiled apologetically. "They're Zack's."

She beamed when she saw the juice box, and Alex furrowed her brow. "Hey, why do you have those at school Dad?" she asked. "And Fruit Roll-Ups. What's up with that?"

Erik paled and unconsciously caught Christine's eye. Her hand was trembling and her eyes darted fearfully. "They're for me," he grinned uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "They- they're for me, you know, in case I get hungry."

"Fruit Roll-ups?" Becky cried, sitting down next to him. "Erik, honey, are you out of your mind? You know that's not good for you, what if you get diabetes? All that sugar!"

Erik scowled and clenched his teeth together. The last thing he wanted was a reminder from his wife about how old he was getting in front of Christine. "I'm _not_ going to get diabetes, Becky," he said icily. "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I'm sickly too."

Everyone turned to Erik with startled looks on their faces. Except Christine and Zack; they were completely engrossed in their spaghetti. "Erik, is something wrong?" Becky asked him in a low voice. "What's the matter with you? We have guests." She looked pointedly at Jude and Christine.

"Excuse me." Erik said simply, standing up from the table. "I- I'll be right back." He turned and walked out of the kitchen; a second later they heard his footsteps on the stairs. An awkward silence fell over the table; Christine continued to eat. She was ravenous.

"My, aren't you hungry?" Becky smiled, attempting to break the ice. "Are you feeling better, dear?"

Christine paused and nodded, her cheeks stuffed with spaghetti. She looked like a chipmunk. "Yushmumm," she mumbled with a smile. "Vurry good."

"So- so what happened again? Today, at school?" Jude asked curiously. He took a bite of spaghetti.

"Well, I was taking a walk," Alex began. She didn't explain following Christine, or hearing the two girls' conversation. "And I ran into one of Dad's students, this guy named Raoul. And he was _stoned._ Like, not even coherent high."

"Wait, Raoul?" Becky interjected with a concerned face. "Not Raoul de Chagny?"

"That's my boyfriend!" Christine blurted excitedly. "I like him. He has a really long-" Suddenly she gulped and snapped her mouth shut. "H-h-e has a-a... he has really long hair!" She beamed. "It's pretty."

Jude and Alex choked on their spaghetti. Becky was feeding Zack; she missed it.

"Yeah, that one," Alex said, gesturing to Christine. "Why, do you know him?" She looked at her mom.

"Yes, your father and I know his family, they're friends of ours. Dad goes golfing with Raoul's dad all the time, don't you remember them?" Becky replied mildly, finally having some spaghetti herself. "They've got what is it? I think four kids, Raoul is the youngest. They're very wealthy."

"Well, anyway. He was stoned. And we figured out he was supposed to be in Dad's class, but we took a walk outside instead." Jude squinted his eyes suspiciously in her direction. She laughed and shook her head. "He need fresh air, desperately. That's all, ask Christine."

Christine looked up. She was oblivious to the whole conversation; it was taking too long. Boring. "Huh?"

"Nothing. So we're just sitting outside when Dad comes out to the courtyard, carrying Christine here," Alex nodded in her direction and Christine yawned. "Also high as a kite."

"Oh, dear," Becky said with a frown. "You know, that's really not good for you at all," she said to Christine, her frown deepening. "You're lucky Mr. Destler found you, you can get kicked out of school for doing drugs, you know."

"Kicked out of school?" Christine echoed faintly. Her eyes widened. "I don't want to be kicked out of school..."

"Of course you don't!" Becky cried, giving the girl a sympathetic smile. "Dear- where are your parents? I think we should call them, I don't feel comfortable letting you go back to school without getting some help with this situation..."

Christine slumped in her chair and ate a meatball. "Um..." she hummed distractedly. She scratched her head and shook her head slightly. Becky thought she looked like a lost little girl; Alex thought she looked like a feral child. Jude and Zack thought the spaghetti was great.

"Your parents?" Becky repeated gently, touching her shoulder. Christine jumped slightly, and Becky lifted her hand apologetically.

"Mmmm... they d-d-died, they're- they died. They died. They're dead." Christine said in a high pitched voice. She was still shaking her head slightly, from side to side, and even up and down. She looked extremely distracted. "They're not alive anymore."

"Oh, how terrible," Becky looked stricken; she put a hand to her chest. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to bring it up-"

Christine turned to her with such a wide, genuine smile that Becky immediately forgot her distress. "I like the spaghetti," she crooned shyly. "It's so good."

"I'm glad you like it, sweetheart," Becky smiled back. "Just let me know when you're finished, and we'll get you back to your dorm room, alright?" She stood up and began clearing the table; Christine followed her lead and smiled beatifically when Becky glanced at her. "No, no, please, sit down and finish," she stopped her.

Christine frowned. "I want to help." she insisted softly. "I can wash your dishes. Please?"

"Oh, really, now!" Becky laughed and gently pushed Christine back into her seat. "You are too sweet, please, I _insist_ just sit and finish eating. Alex, go find your father." She called, looking up across the table. Alex looked up in the middle of feeding Zack a particularly large meatball and made a face. "Dad's being weird. What's his problem?"

"Alex," Jude nudged her softly and looked pointedly in Christine's direction. "Come on, not in front of his student."

She winced and nodded, but then rolled her eyes. Her father's student was currently examining a meatball... with more scrutiny than her two year old brother did. She didn't hear a damn thing. Alex got up from the table and handed Jude Zack's bowl. "Can you finish feeding him please?" She asked, kissing his temple as she walked by. He nodded and promptly began acting like an airplane.

Alex laughed under her breath and climbed the stairs. Something about Christine Daae didn't sit right with her, and she was going to find out what it was. In all of her father's years of teachings, (and it had been quite a long time) she could barely count on two hands the number of students he had brought home, and they were usually either: extremely bright, or somehow connected by friends or family. Christine fit neither bill.

When he had decided to take her home with them, she couldn't deny... how unsettling it was for her. Yes, she understood that the girl was emotionally disturbed, and he didn't want a good kid to get kicked out for smoking a little pot. She understood; but there was just something... else.

_"Alex, call your mother," Erik instructed tensely, dragging a nearly unconscious Christine next to him. "Tell her I'm going to bring home one of my students, she's sick and I don't trust her by herself."_

_ "Wait, you're bringing her home?" Alex repeated with a frown. She put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. "Why?"_

_ "Because, Alex, look at her!" He snapped, pointing to the giggling, half asleep mess beside him. "She's my student, and I can't leave her like this, especially since one of my colleagues is responsible for getting her like this."_

_ "What about Raoul?" Alex asked sharply. "Why don't we take him home too?"_

_ "Raoul- Raoul is a big boy, he can take care of himself. I told you, Christine isn't well, she's extremely vulnerable, she can't take care of herself. Now, please, stop arguing and call your mother." Erik said wearily, handing her his cell phone._

_ "Hey Mom, it's Alex," she began softly, turning away from them. "Yeah, Dad wanted to let you know that he's bringing a student home..." She started walking away aimlessly, still talking to her mother. Erik turned to Christine nervously and pushed some curls from her forehead._

_ "Christine, I'm taking you to my house, so you can rest, ok?" he murmured softly. She mumbled something under her breath and blinked her eyes slowly. "The world is spinning," she whispered. "Am I spinning too?"_

_ "No, sweetheart, you're not spinning. Everything just looks like it's spinning because you're high. Have you ever been high before?" He kept his tone gentle; seeing her like this made him feel... he wasn't sure. He felt so many things around her; he wasn't sure if he was angry, or worried, or protective, or even... in...-_

_ "I don't remember," she whispered. He looked at her, and stifled a laugh. She was crossing her eyes and blinking slowly. "Raoul gave me m-m-magic cigarettes before." She giggled. "Where did Raoul go?"_

_ "He told me to tell you he'll call you later, alright?" Erik lied. He stood up and saw Alex walking back to him, just in time. "Well? What did your mom say?"_

_ "She said it's fine, she was making spaghetti anyway, she can have dinner with us," Alex replied, jerking her thumb in Christine's direction. She avoided her father's gaze, and seeing his daughter brought a whole new onslaught of confusing feelings for him. He couldn't imagine living without his Alex- whenever he thought about her, it hurt, he adored her so much. No matter what she did, or how angry he was at her, he still had this ferocious __**love**__ for her..._

_ Now why was he starting to feel the same thing for Christine?_

"Dad..." Alex called softly, peeking her head into his room. "Daddy, where are you?" She heard opera playing from his connecting study, and followed the sound to find her father bent over his desk, a stack of papers right under his nose. "Dad," she scolded. "Sit up, you're going to mess up your back."

He looked up at her in surprise and reflexively reached up to touch his face; he had removed the mask while he graded papers. "Oh, I'm sorry, Alex-" he blushed, feeling his bare skin. He started shuffling around his desk to find the mask, but she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Daddy, you know I don't care," she smiled gently, kissing his forehead. "Keep it off, I'm sure it's bothering you anyway."

He lowered his hand warily and sheepishly and nodded. "It does irritate it a little," he admitted, gesturing to the right side of his face. "Would you mind bringing me some of Mom's face cream from the bathroom, Pumpkin?" he asked, kissing her hand. "It's the expensive one on the counter, don't tell her I'm using it."

She rolled her eyes and walked into the adjoining bathroom. "Why do you use Mom's beauty cream?" she called, trying to stifle her laugh. "This stuff _is_ expensive, she would kill you if she knew you were using it..."

"Because it soothes my skin," he called back defensively. "I'm delicate. I need delicate things."

She walked back into the study with the cream in her hand. "So why don't you buy your own?" She asked, rolling her eyes and handing him the stuff. "They have face cream for men, I'm sure."

"It's not the same," he sniffed, gently massaging the cream into his mangled face. "This is the best. And I certainly can't buy this myself, what kind of a man would that make me? Hmm?" He rolled his eyes and ran his finger over the one large scar that dominated the right side of his face. It even sliced through his eye; the reason the right one was ice blue and not green, like his left. He was lucky he could still see.

"God, I'm pretty ugly," he muttered, settling back in his chair. He kept tracing his scar absentmindedly, and then turned to his daughter. "Your dad is one ugly dude." He smiled wearily.

She punched his shoulder and messed up his hair. "You are _not_ ugly, Dad," she sighed. "You've just got one hell of a big scar covering half of your face. And a scratched cornea. And a very _slightly_ twisted mouth. But you're not ugly. Mom married you," she pointed out. "And Mom's pretty hot."

"Your mother is a saint," he murmured under his breath. He winced. "Alex, please don't say hell. It hurts my feelings. You shouldn't say bad words."

"Hell isn't a bad word, Daddy. And you say fuck all the time." she replied simply.

His eyes widened and he squeaked. "Oh Alex," he moaned. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack? Don't drop an f-bomb on me now, I can't handle anymore stress today..."

She burst into laughter. "'F-bomb'?" she repeated. "Who taught you _that_?"

He grinned smugly. "No one." he replied. "I learned it myself. I'm cool, I'm hip. I'm hipper than you know, you know."

"Right," she raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you _invented_ that alright. Come on, one of your students taught you that, didn't they?"

He laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, ok, they did. I can't remember which class it was- probably a Comp Lit. They're the ones who teach me all the cool new lingo, the hip new styles... you picking up what I'm putting down?" he teased.

She threw her head back and laughed again. "Yeah, I'm picking it up, Dad. Hey, Mom wants you to take your student home. She's finished eating."

Erik's face suddenly froze. He blinked slowly and it almost looked like his eyes darkened. "Tell her I can't, I busy. I have a lot of papers to grade." He turned back to the stack of papers on his desk and hunched over. "She'll have to do it."

Alex nodded slowly. "Ok..." she said softly. "I'll go tell her. Don't work too hard, ok, Daddy?" She leaned over and kissed his forehead again. He squeezed her hand affectionately and nodded. "I love you, Pumpkin," he murmured.

"I love you too, Daddy."

When Alex finally came back to the kitchen, she was greeted by an odd sight. Her mother and Christine were washing dishes, side by side, (they had a dish washer) and giggling like twelve year olds. Christine blew a soap bubble from her hand and Becky laughed and tried to catch it. Jude was in the process of cleaning Zack up, who seemed to be dying to chase bubbles too.

"Mom, what are you doing." Alex said flatly. "You've got soap all over you. You're making a mess."

Christine squeaked and turned around, her eyes bright and hopeful- but when they saw that Alex was alone, they dimmed and her face fell. "We're washing the dishes." she said shyly, not quite catching Alex's eye. Alex made her nervous. She seemed very smart.

"Christine is a Gemini dear, did you know that?" Becky asked mildly, smiling at her daughter. She rinsed out a salad bowl and handed it to Christine, who promptly wiped it down with a dish cloth. "And she's not even eighteen, and already in college!"

"_Re_ally?" Alex intoned, sitting next to Jude. "I'm a Scorpio." She took the washcloth out of his hands and started mopping down her little brother; Jude sat back and sighed thankfully. "He is a handful," he panted, pointing at the messy two year old. "Damn."

"Yes, just like your father," Becky said fondly. "Where is he? Is he coming?"

"No, he told me to tell you to take Christine home. He's very busy." Alex replied. Jude unconsciously observed Christine as this information was delivered; for some reason, he wasn't surprised when he saw how devastated she looked...

"Oh, well, that's alright," Becky said. She sounded slightly surprised. "I didn't know he had that much work to do! It's alright dear, I can't take you back, no problem," she reassured Christine with a wide smile. "Just give me a minute to put on my coat and we'll go. Alex, will you take care of-"

"I've got him, Mom," Alex reassured her mother, taking Zack out of his high chair. "You want a bath? Yes, you do!" she crooned, slowly walking to the stairs.

He beamed. "B-aaaath. Fun. Wah-ter toys."

"Yeah, we're going to play with your water toys!" Alex agreed wearily. "Jude, you are not going to bed. You are going to help me with this beast." She added in an undertone as her boyfriend attempted to sneak out of the kitchen. "Don't even think about it."

"Dammit," he muttered. "Alright, I'll meet you." She nodded and took the toddler out of the kitchen and up the stairs; he shuffled around sheepishly and ran his fingers through his hair. Christine was standing by the door awkwardly, staring at him; Becky had gone to find her coat.

"Are you her boyfriend?" The blue eyed girl wondered. She had such a soft, crystalline voice, like a kid voice or something. It kind of spooked him out.

"Uh, yes I am." Jude replied simply. "About five years now, we've been together."

Christine bit her lip and unconsciously took a step forward. "Five years ago, I was twelve." she informed him. "How old are you?"

"I'm ah, twenty-eight," Jude chuckled uncomfortably. "A lot older than you."

"Not as old as Professor Destler." she said simply. "He's very old."

Jude laughed and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Oh, come on, he's not that old, he's like in his mid, late forties. My _grandpa, _now he's old. He'll be ninety five in three months. That's pretty damn old."

"My grandpa is dead." she informed him. "My whole family is dead. They all left me alive."

Jude frowned and scratched his head. "I'm... sorry...?" he replied sympathetically. "That's really sad; do you miss them?"

"Sometimes." She whispered. "Sometimes I'm glad they're all gone."


	18. Intervention

Raoul was, not by nature, a suspicious person. When it came to life, he much preferred to assume positive things about people, not negative. He found that whenever he tried to think negative thoughts, it only brought on headaches and diarrhea, and since he wasn't particularly fond of either of those things, he mostly avoided thinking bad thoughts.

However, the more time he spent with Christine, the harder it was becoming to ignore the glaringly negative things he noticed about her. At first, many of the negatives weren't negatives at all; he found them a big plus in the beginning of their relationship. But as time wore on...

He was beginning to believe that Christine was addicted to sex. No, scratch that, he wasn't just _beginning_ to believe it- he _knew_ it. She was addicted to sex!

He started to notice it around Thanksgiving. One day, as he loafed around his dorm room waiting for the rain to stop so he could go buy a pizza, he heard a tentative knock on his door. He checked his clock; it was two in the afternoon, he wasn't expecting anyone. His roommate was at his girlfriend's apartment; she was some goth girl Raoul happened to know had pierced nipples. He wasn't expecting him back anytime soon.

"Coming," he called. He swung the door open, and there stood Christine, tiny and meek, and drenched to the bone. Raoul quickly glanced outside his window; it was _impossible_ to see, the rain was coming down so hard. He turned back to Christine in shock. "Christine!" he spluttered. "Wh-what are you doing here? How did you _get_ here?"

"Hi Raoul," she smiled shyly and hugged herself. Her teeth were chattering. "I just wanted to say hi."

"Chrissy, did you _walk_ here?" Raoul asked, stepping aside and letting her in. She slipped her sneakers off, and water came spilling out of them. Her hair hung even longer when it was wet; the ends of it grazed her behind, dripping fat water droplets whenever she moved. When he stepped closer, it looked like her lips were blue.

"Y-y-yes," she smiled sheepishly. "It's not that far, it's just across the quad-"

"Christine, it's like, fifty degrees out there!" Raoul exclaimed. "Are you nuts? Look at your lips, it's like you've got freaking hypothermia or something, I don't even know how to tell if you _have_ hypothermia..." He scratched his head and clapped his hands together. "Ok, well, um, we're going to... we're gonna warm you up, ok Chrissy? Take off your sweatshirt-"

He looked up and gulped. She was way ahead of him. She had already stripped down to her bra and panties, and she was still just standing in the middle of his room, clutching her arms and shivering and chattering her teeth. She smiled hopefully.

"D-d-do you have a b-blanket?" she asked softly, shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I'm a l-l-little cold."

"Yeah, sure, definitely," he said distractedly, rushing to get an extra one from under his bed. He pulled out a knitted on from his grandma and held it out to her with a smile. "Here you go, baby," He looked at her and laughed. "Christine, you're insane! Why didn't you at least wait until the rain stopped? Or call me, or something?"

She wrapped the blanket tightly around herself and shrugged. "I dunno," she smiled. "I wanted to see you." She started walking towards him on the bed, and as she stepped away from her spot on the floor, Raoul saw her discarded bra and panties left behind.

"Whoa..." he looked up at her and scratched his head. "How'd you do that?"

She giggled and sat next to him, still wrapped in the cocoon blanket. "Do what?" she whispered. She bit her lip and leaned closer. "I really wanted to see you," she murmured, her eyes fluttering close. She leaned in, and he kissed her back, still slightly confused about the recent events.

"Are you sure you're ok?" he murmured against her mouth, feeling her neck. She was still shaking. "You're really cold, Christine. Maybe I should take you to the nurse, or a dctor or something..."

"No!" she squeaked, pushing him down. His eyes widened and he put his hands on her waist to steady her. She smiled and shook her head demurely. "I'm fine," she whispered. "I just need you to kiss me..." She pressed her lips against his again, and invaded his mouth with her tongue. She even nipped his lower lip gently.

"Oooh," Raoul complained. He pulled away and touched his lip. "Ouch," he laughed softly, smiling up at her. "That hurt."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. Her eyes looked darker... almost possessed. She pushed him back and kissed him harder; he almost sensed an urgency in the way she was kissing him, touching him, touching herself. He couldn't help it; he was rock hard instantly.

"God, you're hot," he breathed, unwrapping her from the blanket. "Take this off, take this off..."

She purred deep in her throat and fixed the blanket so it covered them both, and quickly began undressing the blonde boy beneath her. "Raoul," she whined. She clawed at his T-shirt and ground her vagina against his throbbing, denim covered erection.

"W-w-w-whaaat, I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying," he panted frantically, unzipping his jeans. He yanked off his T-shirt and threw it; it landed on top of her bra and panties. He shimmied out of his jeans as quickly as he possibly could and she yanked him forward again.

"I'm soooo horny..." she whispered, looking him straight in the eye. "I need you _now_."

He gulped. She was almost a little bit scary. But not scary enough to scare away his woody; he grabbed it, spread her, and found home base. "Aggghhh," he groaned. His eyes rolled back and his hands tightened around her waist. She moaned. Loudly.

"Raoul!" she whimpered, squeezing her eyes shut. She clutched his biceps and started moving; he reached down and touched her- _Jesus_, she was wet. He groaned and started thrusting. She met him with each one, and even slid her hand between them, to touch her clit. "Raaaaaaaoul..." she panted.

Raoul almost felt like he was going to have a heart attack, but then he thought about how much that would suck, so he tried to concentrate, focus. It was _incredibly_ arousing to practically be attacked by her, and then watch her touch herself while she was still mounted on his dick. He couldn't think, he could barely see straight. The only thought in his mind was hold out, hold out, hold out. Do not come. Do not come before her.

He squeezed his eyes shut and lifted his hands from her waist. The less contact he had with her the better, if he wanted to last long enough. He thought about the blanket covering them, and then he screwed up his face in disgust. He did not want to think about his Grandma, no matter how bad he wanted to last. Gross.

"Fuck me!" she demanded. She leaned forward, and increased the depth of his penetration. Raoul's eyes practically bulged out of his head. Did Christine just say the f word? He couldn't believe it; he had never, ever heard her drop an f-bomb. He was shocked. Shocked.

"Did you just say fuck?" he panted hoarsely. He finally had to grab onto her; he could barely keep up, she was out of control.

"Fuck me," she growled. "More! Harder! Faster, oh please, faster, more..." She had a full body sex blush; her cheeks, shoulders, neck, breasts, everything was tinted pinkish red, and her pupils were more dilated than ever. Raoul almost- almost- feared for his dick. Life.

Suddenly, she started to keen. She worked him even faster, without any thought of his pleasure or if he was keeping up with her. He kind of felt like a dildo or something. It was _hot_. She moaned, and tossed her head, and then he felt it.

Sweet, sweet, baby Jesus. He thought he went to Paradise and back. She got so _tight_, he seriously felt like he could not breathe for a hot minute. "Oooooh, fuck," he groaned, eagerly shooting his come inside of her. She let out a high pitched whimper, and started convulsing, long, tight, _intense_ convulsions.

"Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrrrrissssy..." he moaned under his breath. His hands clenched and unclenched around her waist, and he stayed buried inside of her until he couldn't move. "Whoa..." he whispered thickly. He looked up at her from under heavy lids and smiled sleepily. "That was... awesome."

She said nothing. Slowly, her head descended to land on his chest gently, and she moved to the side of him so that their legs could tangle together. She pulled his arms around her waist and buried her face in his neck. She was trembling.

"Christine?" Raoul murmured softly, stroking her hair. "Are you ok, babe?"

She still said nothing, and hugged him tighter. He could feel her shaking her head against his neck. "My head hurts." she whispered.

Raoul was never very good at math. He found it rather boring and pointless, but he wasn't a complete idiot. He knew how to recognize a pattern when he saw one, and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a pattern to Christine's behavior.

The rainy day incident was neither the first, nor the last event of its kind. She started complaining of headaches everyday. She also began accosting him everyday, with less and less regard for other people, places, everything!

"Raoul..." she whined one day, pressing herself against him. She took his hand and guided it between her legs as she found his half hearted erection herself. "Please..."

He pulled away slightly with a half laugh and raised his eyebrows at her. "Christine!" he laughed, glancing around. "We're outside, anyone could see us."

She bit her lip and giggled softly. "I know," she purred, sneakily slipping his hand under her shirt. "Touch me, please."

Raoul looked up, and in any given direction he could see at least three people who would be able to see them if he decided to take her up on her offer. It was tempting... and he certainly wasn't a prude, no sir! He could admit the idea of getting it on in a public place where people could see was arousing. But...

"I dunno, Chrissy," he said nervously. "I don't think so. Let's just go back to my room, we can order a pizza and smoke a joint or something, come on, what do you say?" He tugged her hand and started walking backwards, but she wouldn't budge.

Wouldn't budge. Christine was a tiny girl; she could easily be mistaken for a junior high schooler. But when Raoul tried to pull her in his direction again, he could not move her. He glanced up at her face and stepped back in surprise. Her face was screwed up into what he could only describe as an extremely cranky pout, and it was flushed almost bright red. She was trembling again.

"Christine?" he tried again softly and pulled her hand slightly. "Come one, babe, that's a bad idea, we could get in trouble. Let's go to my room, we can do it there..."

"_N-n-n-o!_"

Raoul let go of her hand in shock. He glanced around the quad and gulped; several people had looked up at the sound of her tremulous shout and were now eyeing Raoul suspiciously. He took a step forward and started rubbing her forearms. "Christine," he began in what he hoped sounded like a reasonable tone. "Come on. Let's be real. Let's just go to my room, we can whatever you want there, we can even go to your room if you want. But that's like, serious trouble if we get caught doing it outside like this!"

"I- want- to- do- it- _now_!" she insisted. She even stomped her foot on the ground. "I- want- to- do- it- here!"

"Hey!" Now Raoul was frowning. He couldn't remember ever getting into a fight with Christine. Who wants to fight with a girl who's horny all the time? "Don't- don't stomp your feet at me! I'm trying to make sure we don't get in trouble!" He crossed his arms defensively and deepened his frown.

She shook her head wildly, crossed her arms, and stomped her foot again. "No!" she insisted.

"Well, _I'm_ going back to my room!" Raoul snapped, turning on his heel. "You can go do whatever you want, I'll see you later!" He started walking away from her angrily when he heard her sniffling. He stopped; he hated it when people cried, it made him sad too. He never knew what to do. His sisters used to cry all the time when they were in high school. He glanced over his shoulder.

Christine still stood in the same place, except her demeanor had changed completely. She was slumped over and crying. He could even see from where he was standing that her legs were trembling, and so were the fingers that covered her face. She wasn't really wailing or sobbing, just sort of sniffling and tearing up. She looked so pathetic.

"Christine?" he started walking back to her. "I'm sorry, babe. Please don't cry..."

"You yelled at me," she whimpered. "You left me."

"I didn't mean it," he assured her gently. He pulled her in for a hug and she nuzzled her nose in his mint green cashmere Lacoste sweater. He smelled like marijuana, cologne, and boy. She inhaled deeper, but he didn't smell quite as comforting as...

"Hey, Professor!" Raoul said suddenly. He looked up and grinned, still holding Christine against his chest tightly. "What's up, man?"

Christine squeaked and froze. Her face was still buried in Raoul's chest. She held him closer and tried to concentrate on disappearing. The cashmere scratched her nose; she wheezed in slowly.

"Hello there, Raoul," said a deep voice next to them. It cleared its throat, and Christine heard rustling, like it was shifting its weight or moving things around. She started to whimper again, and she pinched Raoul's side. "What have you been up to?" Continued the voice.

"Oh, you know, sir," Raoul sighed and shrugged. Erik caught his eye, and looked down at Christine's buried head pointedly. He swallowed uncomfortably at seeing her so... cozy with him. "Is-"

"She's been acting weird lately," Raoul mouthed, rubbing Christine's back in gentle circles. He shrugged again.

Erik nodded distractedly and smiled briefly. "Well, keep out of trouble, Raoul. I'll see you in class." He patted the younger man's shoulder quickly and kept on his way, buttoning up his winter coat as he did. Light snow had begun to fall, and an icy breeze had chilled his mask beyond discomfort. It was downright _frigid._

He glanced over his shoulder, back at Raoul and Christine, and swallowed again at the scene he saw. Raoul had gently pried Christine off of him, and was holding her hand, tugging her in the direction of the dorms. She resisted, but quickly gave in, holding her arms out to him again. He lifted her up, and started carrying her back to his room on his back, piggyback style.

Erik smiled faintly; he used to give Alex piggyback rides all the time when she was a little girl; she always demanded to be carried everywhere. Becky said he indulged her too much; Erik said she was too perfect to deny. But Christine was not a little girl, as much as she looked and often acted like one. He shuddered slightly and tightened his scarf. It was just the cold.

Meg was, not by nature, a stupid person. She prided herself on her quick wit, ability to read people, and refusal to be taken advantage of. Growing up with her mother's profession, she had seen too many times what happened to people who were taken advantage of, and her mother had always instilled in her a gritty strength, no matter what.

Meg knew that Christine was a funny duck. There was no getting around the fact that there was something slightly... off about the girl, but Meg knew enough to keep quiet and humor her as much as possible. She wasn't exactly cunning, and Meg knew she lacked the bite in her to be malicious. She was like a worm, or even a butterfly: slightly annoying if they got in your way, but basically harmless.

Which was why Meg was concerned. Because Christine was such a gentle, harmless little creature, she rarely, if ever, had problems with anyone. And as long as no one was yelling, being mean, or otherwise being directly aggressive to her, Christine was difficult to make upset. Of course she often cried over little things, especially if she was frustrated (which was very often in school), but overall, Christine was always smiling. Things flew over her head. She was apathetic, but she was peaceful.

Lately, Christine was not peaceful.

Meg started to notice it after the third boy in two weeks left their dorm room without so much as a, 'call you later.' The last straw finally came on a Sunday morning; Meg was coming back to the dorm after spending a night out with Sauna and some friends. When she came to their door, she paused. The door was open.

"Christine...?" she called cautiously, slowly peeking her head inside. She heard a man's voice and tensed; a second later, she heard Christine's agitated whimper respond. Meg sighed and stepped inside.

"W-wait, where's Baby?" Christine sounded like she was on the verge of tears. She was clutching her blanket to her chest tightly and peeking over the side of her bed. An attractive looking jock (not Raoul) was zipping up his pants in the middle of the room. Neither noticed Meg.

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" The guy muttered under his breath. He yanked back her blankets, and she squeaked in distress. "Where's my phone?" he demanded. "I have to call my girlfriend."

"Where's _Baby_?" Christine asked again, hugging her blankets even tighter and eyeing him nervously. "I can't find her!"

"Listen, I don't know where your stupid teddy bear is, alright? Can you get up? I have to go, she'll cut off my fucking balls if I don't go to church with her." The jock snapped. He yanked the covers again, and Christine scrambled off the bed. When she stood up, there was a loud _clunk_, and she felt a phone fall down by her feet.

"Here it is-" she began with a smile, bending down to pick it up for him. He snatched it from her without a word and checked for messages. "Shit," he muttered. He ran his hand through his hair. Five missed calls from his girlfriend.

"I have to go." He said shortly, pulling on his sneakers. "Don't tell anyone about this, got it?"

"Wait, you can't go yet!" she cried, pulling back his arm. "I lost Baby, you have to help me find her-"

"Listen, don't _touch_ me, alright?" He snapped, yanking his arm out of her grasp. She stumbled back onto the bed and her eyes widened. "I don't know where your toy is! Jesus Christ. Grow up." He grabbed his jacket from the floor and stormed out, completely ignoring Meg by the door.

"Christine?" Meg rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. She made a beeline for Christine's bed and tried to ignore the stench of alcohol and sex that hung in the air. "Honey, are you ok? Did he hurt you?"

"Meg!" Christine finally started to cry and clutched her face in upset. "I l-l-lost Baby, I have to f-f-find her-"

"Ok, ok, calm down," Meg soothed, gently pulling Christine out of bed again. She shook the covers, but found nothing. Christine sniffled and trembled and bit her nails frantically. "What if she's lost?" she mourned. "What if I can't find her? I can't lose Baby!"

"Christine, you need to calm down." Meg said evenly. "Go sit down at my desk. I'm going to find Baby."

Christine obeyed, and fretfully twisted at her blanket toga while sitting in the small wooden chair. After not even a moment, Meg cried out in triumph and held up a slightly more scuffed up than usual Baby. "Found her!" she called.

Christine gasped and jumped up to grab her. She clutched her against her breast and buried her face against Meg's collar. "You found her!" she breathed. "Thank you Meg."

"You're welcome, Christine," Meg replied with a pat on her head. "She was right here, see, in between the wall and the bed. All better. Who was that, Christine?" She pulled her away and held her at arm's length. Christine avoided her gaze.

"I don't know," she mumbled into Baby's fur.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Meg insisted, holding her still. Christine was trying to pull away. Her eyes kept darting. "Christine, please tell me."

"He's- my friend..." she whispered uncomfortably, wriggling in Meg's grasp. "We had a sleepover."

"A sleepover." Meg repeated in disbelief. "What about Raoul? Where's he?"

Christine started to cry again. "Please don't tell Raoul," she begged. "He'll be mad at me."

"And what about the others, Christine?" Meg persisted, this time with a gentler voice. "You're bringing a different guy here every day, Christine!"

"T-t-they're just my friends!" she whimpered, covering her face. "I like to have friends..."

"Christine..." Meg sighed, and they both sat down on the younger girl's bed. "Is something wrong? Is there something bothering you?"

"No," Christine whispered back. She was anxiously twisting the sheets in her lap. "Nothing is wrong."

"Are you _sure_?" Meg pried. She held Christine's chin still and looked her right in the eyes. "Tell me what's been going on. Please, I won't be mad, I promise."

Christine blinked, and Meg was suddenly struck by how beautiful her eyes were. They were such a nice, bright, blue, rimmed with thick black lashes. The color reminded her of a chicory flower. She almost felt like every stupid thing men did around Christine made sense... as long as she kept staring into those eyes.

"Is something bothering you?" Meg murmured, taking Christine's hand in hers. "Tell me."

Christine nodded and bit her lip. "My Professor..."

Meg slammed the packet onto the large mahogany desk. Paper clips, pens, and loose sheets of paper went flying; Erik looked up in shock. "What- what is this?" he spluttered. "What in the world? Can you explain yourself, young lady?" He frowned and stood up, gesturing to the packet she had thrust onto his desk.

"Explain myself?" Meg repeated sarcastically. "Oh yeah, sure, I can do that. See this?" She picked the packet up and brandished it in Erik's face. His frown deepened, and his face started to color. Who was this little upstart, and how dare she speak to him in this manner?

"Yes, what is that?" he snapped. "It had better be good, before I call the Dean on you-"

"_This_," Meg continued, raising her voice to speak over him. "Is Wesleyan's _sexual harassment_ policy. Would you care to read, _Professor_?"

Erik's face paled immediately. His hand absentmindedly clutched his heart, and he took a shaky step back. "Wh-what... what are you talking about?" he whispered warily. "Why are you showing me this?"

"Why am I showing you this?" Meg hissed. Her face was getting redder and redder by the minute. She wasn't joking and being sarcastic anymore; she was furious. "I'm showing you this because your student is making herself sick over you. Your student, whom you took advantage of, has stopped eating, sleeping, and going to classes, _because of you_. That's why I'm showing you this, Professor. I think you need to brush up on University policy." She thrust the packet at him again and he caught it nervously.

"Do you know what the procedure is for filing a complaint against a faculty member?" Meg barked.

"N-no, I-"

"Report the incident to the Vice President of Academic Affairs. Directly." Meg said sharply. She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a folder. "I've already written him a detailed letter; all I have to do is send it."

"Jesus Christ," Erik breathed, sitting back down and running his hands through his hair.

"Does your wife know that you've been sleeping with a seventeen year old?" Meg asked angrily. "Because if I send this letter, you will be put on trial by the school, and there will be a full examination."

"Wait-" Erik croaked, looking up at her in increased panic. "Wait, wait, please, wait. I- I don't... where's Christine?"

"She's probably having sex with a stranger. Right now, as we speak, and afterwards, she'll crawl under her blanket, hug her teddy bear, and do _nothing_ all day. She is depressed, and I don't know what you did to her, but if God forbid you hurt her somehow, I swear to God, you son of a bitch-"

"I would _never_ hurt Christine!" Erik cried, jumping to his feet.

"Then why is she on the fast track to self destruction right now?" Meg demanded. "What did you _do_ to her?"

Erik sat down again and nervously tapped his fingernail against his mask. "I- I didn't do anything to her-"

"Bull shit!" Meg yelled.

Erik held up his hand and glanced at his door. The classroom outside was empty. "No," he said softly. "I really didn't do... anything. I stopped talking to her, looking at her, everything. She stopped coming to my class about two weeks ago. I haven't seen her since."

"So you just started ignoring her." Meg paraphrased, crossing her arms and slowly sitting down in the chair before his desk. "No wonder she's upset. She's confused."

"I- listen, I was trying to do the right thing," Erik cried. "I know what I was doing with her wasn't right, so I tried to stop! And- and the only way I could ever stop being with her is if I stopped seeing her completely! Because I know if I see her again, I'll-" His voice broke and he covered his face in his hands. "You said she's not eating?" he whispered after a moment.

Meg nodded warily. "Very little," she replied. "She's lost at least seven pounds."

Erik swore and his hands started trembling. "She's- she's going to hurt herself," he said hoarsely. "Why isn't anyone taking care of her?"

"Because she doesn't _have_ anyone," Meg said. "Do you understand that? Can you imagine what she must've been thinking, when the only man who was nice to her suddenly starts ignoring her and treating her like yesterday's garbage? Christine is fragile enough as it is. She doesn't need much to break her."

"Is she- ok?" Erik whispered. "She hasn't... hurt herself, has she?"

"Not yet," Meg shrugged.

"I have to see her," he whispered. He passed his hand over his face anxiously, and looked Meg squarely in the eye. "I can't stop you, but if you send that letter, it will ruin everyone's life. Let me go to her, and make things right."

"I won't tell anyone," Meg replied simply. "If you make her happy again.


	19. An Attack

"Christine, are you ready? It's eight forty five and your class starts at nine o clock." Meg called. She rapped on the bathroom door sharply and pressed her ear against it to try to hear something. Dead- silence. She sighed and leaned against the door completely. "Christeeeen..."

"I don't want to go!" Christine suddenly cried from the other side. She bit her pinkie nail and examined her hair in the mirror for the two thousandth time. It looked terrible! She looked terrible! "I hate school!" she continued, as anxiety built up more and more inside of her. "I hate that class, I'm not going!"

"Oh- yes- you- _are_!" Meg huffed, shoving her credit card through the doorjamb and pushing the door open. Christine squeaked and fell back, and Meg regarded her with smug defiance. "You are going to this class, Christine," she said in an even voice. "You can't sweet talk your way out of this one. It's your last class before winter break, and if I have to drag you there and sit next to you for the whole time, I will. Do you understand?"

Christine's face had quickly turned bright red, and as she scrunched it up into The Pout, Meg was vaguely reminded of the Hulk. "I hate you!" Christine screamed from the bathroom floor. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" She kicked her feet in Meg's direction, but the blonde dodged her easily. She didn't take ballet for nothing. Christine dropped her face in her hands and started to sob. "_He_ hates me," she wept hopelessly.

"Your Professor?" Meg asked gently, kneeling down next to her. She was still trying to get used to the fact that Christine was involved with a Professor. Quickie blow job for an A on a test? Fine. But a months-long affair that put her scholastic career, his _career_, and his marriage on the table? Tricky stuff. She still wasn't sure if confronting him was the right thing to do- it probably wasn't. But she had to do _something_, before Christine withered away to nothing before her.

Christine said nothing, but wrapped her arms around herself even tighter. "As soon as Alex came, he forgot about me..." she cried, rocking back and forth. "He hates me! I'm dumb and ugly and I'm- I'm-" She sobbed even louder and Meg rubbed her back softly.

"Hmmm?" Meg encouraged her.

"I'm really bad at r-r-r-reading!" Christine finally wailed. "I hate to read! And Alex likes to read! She's smart and I'm stupid! She's pretty and I'm ugly! I'm ugly!" She covered her face with her hands and sobbed, louder, and louder, and louder, until Meg feared for what her floor mates would think.

"Christine, calm-"

"I can't- I- I- I can't- I can't breathe!" Christine gasped suddenly, clutching her chest. "I- I-" Her eyes widened, as they did whenever she was panicking, and she started huffing and puffing, and sobbing even louder. "I think I- I'm going to die! I'm dying!" She curled into a ball on the bathroom floor, and pressed her head against the toilet bowl.

"Christine!" Meg called in alarm. "Christine, calm down. I- I think you're having a panic attack, ok, babe? Listen to me-"

"No!" Christine screamed, thrusting her fist back in Meg's direction. "Get away from me!"

Meg stood up and grabbed her own hair. "Shit," she muttered with wide eyes. Christine was out of control. "Christine," she tried again and steeled herself against whatever fight Christine put up. "You need to calm down, and stop trying-" She ducked to avoid a flying foot. This was ridiculous; her voice got louder. "Stop trying to hit me, I'm _trying to help you_!" she screamed.

"I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying..." Christine wept. She clutched her chest and tried to breathe, but each breath was too shallow. "I can't breathe..."

"That's it," Meg muttered. She walked outside of the bathroom, grabbed her cell phone, and dialed 911. "I'm calling an ambulance."

_"Holy shit..." Raoul jumped to his feet and started running to the front of the room. He shoved his cell phone in his pocket haphazardly._

_ "Wait, wait, Raoul, what are you doing? Where are you going?" Erik demanded. A class of twenty plus undergrads stared at him with their mouths open. Something about this class always had someone up and leaving in the middle. _

_ "I- I have to go, Doc, they took Christine to the hospital," Raoul replied apologetically. "Merry Christmas!" he called, slamming the door behind him._

_ Erik paled, and the papers he was holding dropped to the floor. Christine? Hospital? He put his hand to his forehead and took a few steps back; a student in the front row stood up in alarm and picked the papers up for him._

_ "Professor?" the student asked. "Professor Destler, are you alright?"_

_ Erik swallowed and nodded faintly; he took a seat in the desk at the front of the class and cleared his throat. "Yes, I'm fine," he replied vaguely. He looked up and smiled distractedly. "Thank you, John, I'm fine. Ah- well, you know what, guys," he looked up and started sweating. Every single pair of eyes was trained on him. He couldn't even think about how suspicious, how strange he was acting. "It's almost Christmas, what the hell, I don't have anything for you to do. Go home early."_

Erik tore through the hospital halls like a man on a mission. His wool winter coat followed him like some warped Batman cape; yeah, right, like he was about to save Gotham city. The last time he remember being this worried about anybody was when Alex told him she was moving in with Jude. He couldn't sleep for weeks. What if the tattooed maniac beat her? Cheated on her? Killed her? Raped her?

And now he was suddenly plagued with the same dread, the same sinking feeling he used to get whenever he envisioned a new, terrible scenario happening to his other baby. He couldn't explain it; if something happened to Christine because of him, he would never forgive himself. He _couldn't_ forgive himself.

"Excuse me, ma'am," He stopped the nearest nurse with a clipboard. "Christine Daae, what room is she in?"

"Daae... Daae... hmmm... well, we've got a _Daee_, but I don't see a Daae here... are you sure it's _Daae_, and not _Daee_?" She asked over her pink rhinestone glasses. Her voice had a vague, nasally quality about it; Erik suddenly had the inexplicable, slightly disturbing urge to punch her.

"No, it's _Daae_, a-a-e, not a-e-e," he replied impatiently. He tried to glance over her arm at the chart she was holding, but she stepped away and glared at him over her dumb, stupid, ugly glasses. Erik narrowed his eyes; a rhinestone was missing from the right side design.

"Ex_cuse_ me, sir, hospital records are private!" she sniffed, bringing the chart even closer to her chest. Erik felt like screaming; Christine was wasting away in a cold, sterilized hospital room at that very moment, and she was lecturing him about hospital records. If anything happened to Christine... he swallowed and blinked furiously.

"Just show me the damned chart!" he snapped, yanking it out of her arms.

"_Sir_!" she gasped. A nearby group of giggling candy stripers stopped giggling and stared at him. "I could have you arrested! Now give me that back, before I call hospital security!"

"Excuse me, sir, is there a problem here?" A doctor in a lab coat asked mildly. He gave Nurse Rhinestone a slightly unfriendly stare, and Erik decided this doctor was his best friend. He shoved the chart back into the nurse's hands and turned completely to the doctor. The nurse opened her mouth in outrage, but the doctor ignored her.

"Please, doctor, I'm looking for Christine Daae- they told me downstairs she would be on this floor," Erik pleaded.

"Christine Daae?" The doctor repeated. He sounded mildly surprised. "Tiny little thing, big curly hair?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Yes, yes, that's her," Erik replied. Now he was slightly wary. Please don't let this doctor know her for the same reasons most men do...

"I just came from her room," The doctor (Erik glanced at his name tag; Doctor Beale) replied. He started in the opposite direction of where Erik had been headed. "Come, walk with me." Erik gratefully followed, trying to quell his worry for Christine with each step he took.

"Are you her father?" Doctor Beale asked quickly, picking up another form as they passed the receptionist's desk. Nurse Rhinestone glared at Erik from behind the desk.

"Yes." Erik blurted. Sweat immediately broke out in practically every sweat gland on his body, and he briefly closed his eyes. Why, why, why, was he so stupid? Why?

"Ok good, I'll need you to fill out these insurance forms..." Doctor Beale passed him several complicated looking forms, and then continued on his way. "You must be worried," he said, giving Erik a quick once over. "She was pretty bad when we got her."

Jesus Christ, they found her raped, beaten, tortured on the side of the road... Erik closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. He would never, ever forgive himself. "What-" his voice was hoarse. He swallowed. "What- happened?" he asked haltingly.

"It's really not as bad as it seems," Doctor Beale assured him. "She had a panic attack."

A huge weight was lifted from Erik's shoulders; he felt like doing summersaults. "A panic attack?" he repeated in disbelief. "She had a panic attack? That's it?"

"Well... I wouldn't say that's it," Doctor Beale corrected him. "It was pretty serious; we had to give her oxygen, knock her out for a little while. She was hysterical. Ah, here we are," he stopped in front of room 342, and walked in. "Ms Giry, do you know Mr. Daae?"

Meg stood up from her post next to Christine's bed and frowned. "Mr. Daae? What-" She stopped when she saw Erik. He gulped; he was still slightly scared of her, to be honest. He cursed his stupidity again and again, and gave her his best pleading look. She nodded warily and smiled falsely.

"Yes, of course I know Mr. Daae!" She said. "You remember me, right sir, Meg Giry?" She extended her hand and he gave her a tight lipped smile. "Of course, how could I forget?" he replied icily. She held his stare defiantly, and didn't let up until the doctor cleared his throat.

"She's been asking for you," Doctor Beale informed Erik, walking over to check Christine's chart. Erik looked down at her, and felt his heart melt with that same tenderness that overcame him every single time he looked at her. She was fast asleep.

"Asking for me?" Erik asked in surprise.

Doctor Beale nodded vaguely and made some notations on the chart. "Yes, saying something about daddy, daddy... I couldn't really understand her, she was almost completely incoherent. Does she have a history of panic attacks?"

Erik ran his hand through his hair nervously; thankfully, Meg stepped in. "Yes," she said quickly. "Yes, she does, since she was a kid. Her records are at the school, I can go and get them if you'd like..." Erik stared at his feet dumbly and prayed for the red in his face to go down. He really knew nothing about her.

"Mmmhmm..." Doctor Beale nodded again and picked up Christine's wrist to feel her pulse. Her heart was still beating rapidly. He removed his glasses and frowned at the odd couple in front of him. "I'm going to do some more tests, but she's extremely young to have any sort of heart problem, and I've already ruled out a host of other possible physical problems. I think Christine suffers from panic disorder."

Meg crossed her arms and nodded seriously; Erik swallowed and blinked frantically. "Panic disorder?" he repeated hoarsely. "It's that bad?"

The doctor shrugged. "It's... pretty bad, Mr. Daae," he replied apologetically. "I had to sedate her before she knocked out all of my orderlies. Does panic disorder run in the family? Do you have panic attacks, sir?"

"I- I'm not sure," Erik answered vaguely. "Once in a while, I'll have one, but I'm not sure about the rest of the family..."

The doctor nodded. "Alright, well, I'm going to run those tests and then I'll get back to you. In the meantime, I've written Christine a prescription for some anti-anxiety medicine; should calm her down a little bit. Is she on any other medication?"

Before Erik could open his mouth, Meg quickly answered, "Birth control. That's it." She gave Erik a stony stare, and he knew enough to take a few steps backwards and look down at his feet again.

The doctor nodded and smiled briefly. "Right, well, I'll come back as soon as those results are done." He patted Erik's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Mr. Daae, she'll be fine." He closed the door gently behind him.

Erik grabbed a chair from near the window and dragged it close to Christine's bed; she was still sleeping peacefully. The only other time he had seen her sleep was when he brought her to his house, weeks ago, and the first time they made love- had sex- whatever. She looked like a doll; it made sense that Nadir informed him she was named after one. Beautiful. He glanced up at Meg nervously. She was standing with her back to him, facing the opened window.

"You told them you were her father," she said finally. It didn't really sound like a question, but he wasn't sure. He answered to be polite.

"Um... yes."

"Why?" Her voice was curiously low, not at all like Christine's babyish soprano. In another time and universe, he would find it interesting; today, it just made him more nervous. She still wasn't facing him.

"He... asked me, and I- I didn't know what to say," Erik replied honestly. "He wouldn't have let me in if I told him I was her teacher!"

"No, you're right, they wouldn't have let you in," Meg replied simply. Erik narrowed his eyes and tilted his head slightly; it sounded like there was a veiled insult in what she just said, but he couldn't quite figure it out. He shrugged and let it go.

After several more awkward (at least for Erik) minutes of silence, Meg spoke again. "You know, Raoul came by," she said quietly. She gently rubbed the leaves of a plant on the windowsill between her fingers... long, bony fingers, like him. Christine's hands were soft and plump; the only thing about her that was. Even her cheeks looked hollow today.

"Raoul," Erik repeated faintly. "That's right, he's the one who told me she was here... where did he go?"

"He had to leave; his dad had a fit when he found out he got kicked off the football team. Couldn't stay to say goodbye to her; they're going to the Alps for winter break." she said simply. "He was the first one- well, the only one, besides you and me- who came."

"Where will she be staying for the break?" he ventured.

"Here," Meg sighed. She took her original seat next to Christine's head and absentmindedly twisted a curl around her finger. "We already filled the application out for her- now all we need to is find her a babysitter." This last part was said with a dry smile; Meg rolled her eyes and Erik laughed timidly.

"You'll... you'll be out of town, then?" he clarified. His own hand itched to hold Christine's, but he didn't dare with Meg in the room. He just kept inching closer and closer, and prayed she didn't notice.

"Yeah, I'm going home. Family. We couldn't afford to get Christine a ticket, and she's got zero dollars, so she had to stay behind. My mom is having a heart attack every day at the thought of leaving her alone." Meg rolled her eyes again; Erik was reminded of a slightly more subdued Alex.

"How does Christine pay for school?" Erik asked suddenly. It was a question that had been plaguing his mind for some time; if her whole family was dead, who was providing for her basic needs? Somehow he didn't see her as a likely candidate for any type of scholarship.

"It's taken care of," Meg replied shortly. The way she said it made Erik feel like she shut the lid on a sort of Pandora's box; a Christine's box perhaps, haha. Anyway, point taken, moving on... "You know, I hope you don't think I agree with this," Meg suddenly said softly, gesturing to Christine. "Because I don't. But I know that Christine is not the most... discerning person when it comes to choosing partners. You're the lesser of a great multitude of evils." She was still wearing that dry, weary smile.

"I really do-" Erik's voice cracked, and he colored slightly in embarrassment. His hand inched closer to Christine's. "I care about her."

"I know," Meg sighed, standing up. "That's what bothers me. I'm going to get a soda, I'll be back in a few minutes..." She stood up and walked out the door; Erik didn't miss the fact the she didn't offer him anything, even out of politeness. That was fine; he got the hints alright, he could figure out that she didn't really approve of him. He wanted no trouble from her- she held his life in her hands.

He scooted closer to Sleeping Beauty, taking advantage of the empty room. "Oh Christine," he sighed, leaning his cheek against hers. "I didn't mean to hurt you baby, you should've just forgotten about me... I didn't forget about you, I promise. I lo- I care about you so much." He kissed her forehead and she stirred, just like in a movie, right when he was expressing his affection.

"Meg," she mumbled. "Meg?"

"She'll be right back," Erik soothed. He finally took her hand in his and sighed happily. This was where her hand belonged, right in his.

She blinked a few times and looked up at him; instead of the smile he was hoping for, her face screwed up in distress and she started to cry. "Ooh no..." she begged. "Please don't be mad at me, please... I'll do anything you want, please don't kick me out of school!"

"Christine," he said gently. He took her other hand and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She stopped wriggling in shock. "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. You should be mad at me. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him warily, like she was waiting for him to play a big joke on her. "You're not mad at me?" she mumbled with cow eyes."Why not?"

"Because you didn't do anything wrong," he said sternly. "Do you understand me? You haven't done anything wrong, Christine. This is my fault."

"I'm in a hospital..." she suddenly observed uncertainly. "Why are you here?"

"Because Raoul told me they took you to a hospital and I got scared," he answered honestly. "I didn't know what was wrong with you, I let class out early and came here."

"I'm sorry I didn't come to class today," she mumbled sadly. "I was scared of you."

"Oh sweetheart," he sighed. He kissed her forehead again. "I'm so sorry- don't worry about class, you don't ever have to come back if you don't want to. Please don't be scared of me."

She smiled tentatively. "You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I never was!" he exclaimed. "I was mad at myself more than anyone, and I was trying to sort things out... no, I'm not mad at you," he assured her. "Never, my darling."

"I thought you were mad at me..." she started to cry again, but this time they seemed to be happy tears. She sat up, and Erik knew it, she had crawled into his lap, just like before, and nuzzled her face into his neck. He sighed in relief and sat back, just rubbing her back in circles, rocking her back and forth, back and forth. His baby was back.

Meg popped the top on her Dr. Pepper and gulped down the fizzy drink gratefully. The whole afternoon had her thirstier than a water buffalo. For once, she was actually glad she was leaving campus to visit her mother during the break. She didn't think she could handle any more drama with Christine.

As she slowly made her way back to Christine's room, Meg suddenly stopped. There was a gaggle of doctors standing off to the side of the hall- she would've ignored them and kept walking, but she stopped when she saw the doctor that had treated Christine and heard, "Post traumatic stress... Daae."

She shook her head slightly, to herself, and continued walking slowly. Post traumatic stress? Like the syndrome? That wouldn't surprise her in the least, but what traumatic event had stressed her out? Or what stressful event had traumatized her? There were so many possibilities.

She finally made it back to the room, and hovered just inside the door when she saw Christine and Erik looking more than a little cozy. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she shut the door quietly to shield any prying eyes from the happy... 'father/daughter' reunion.

Christine heard the door close and jumped a little; she spun around nervously and started biting her pinkie nail. "Uh oh," she said, like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She stared at Meg with terrified big eyes, and tried to climb out of Erik's lap; he felt her start trembling.

"It's- it's alright, Christine," Meg swallowed and came into the room further. Erik smoothed her hair and kissed her temple. "It's ok, she knows," he reassured her gently. He glanced at Meg and nodded curtly; Meg ignored him.

Christine smiled in surprise and sat back against Erik's chest. "You're not mad?" she asked happily.

"I- reserve judgement." Meg replied simply. Christine wrinkled her brow. "What does that mean?" she whispered to Erik. He smiled and kissed her cheek. "She pleads the fifth," he whispered back.

"You know, the doctor's going to be back any minute to release Christine," Meg informed them. "Maybe you should break up the love fest."

Erik coughed in embarrassment, and Christine reluctantly crawled out of his lap on her hands and knees, flashing both him and Meg her panties obliviously. Meg rolled her eyes, and Erik couldn't help but stare. Thankfully, the doctor chose that moment to barge into the room; Christine squeaked and pulled the covers up to her chin.

"Well, hello there, Ms. Daae," he greeted her warmly. "Are we feeling better?"

She smiled hesitantly and nodded. "Yes sir, thank you very much."

"That's good, that's good," Doctor Beale smiled and turned to Erik. "Here's that prescription I told you about," he murmured, handing Erik a slip of paper. "All the tests were negative, just like I thought. I'm going to refrain from diagnosing her with anything just yet, but..." He glanced over his shoulder and patted Erik's. "Just keep an eye on her, mm?"

Erik nodded dutifully and took the prescription. The doctor thanked Meg, ruffled Christine's hair, and was out the door in record time. Erik swallowed and turned to Meg. "Will you please um, help her, you know, get dressed?" He asked her. "Please?"

She nodded and grabbed the clothes neatly folded on the windowsill. "Come on babe, go to the bathroom and put your clothes on. He'll be right back," Meg said in a falsely bright voice, aiming the last part at Erik. He nodded and smiled briefly at Christine. She looked wary to leave him. "Are you coming back?" she asked nervously. "Are you leaving?"

"No, no, I'll be right back, I just have to go take care of this, ok? Go get dressed, darling. I'll meet you outside." She nodded and let Meg guide her into the bathroom. Erik left and quickly located the in-hospital pharmacy. "Hi," he smiled. "Can I fill this here?"

She nodded and took the slip from him. "Will you also be paying for the visit now?" she asked.

He hesitated for a moment... ran his hand through his hair, and then nodded. "Yes, yes, I will," he replied.

"Insurance provider?" She asked. Her fingers tapped and flew over the keyboard; it was quite distracting.

He opened his mouth to give his default answer, then quickly shut it. It would come up under Erik Destler, not Erik Daae, and they would know she wasn't his daughter. He looked up anxiously; yes, Doctor Beale was right down the hall, a step away. "N-no insurance," he rasped.

She raised her eyebrows and stopped typing. "Sooo... you'll be paying out of pocket?" she clarified.

He closed his eyes and nodded.

"All of it? The whole thing?"

"Yes, I'm paying for all of it!" He said sharply. Perhaps a bit too sharply; she looked taken aback. Her fingers started flying again. Tap tap tap tap tap. "Alright, sir, including a six month prescription of this, your total comes to..."

Erik groaned. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet- he could've sworn his credit card screamed in protest as he handed it over to her. He had absolutely no idea how he would explain the bill to Becky. Hide it, hide it, hide it.

"Thank you sir, here are your pills. Have a great day!"

"Thank you," he muttered, walking back to the room. He knew as soon as he saw Christine smiling at him again from the doorway of her room every single painful penny was worth it.


	20. Sing For Me

"Becky?" Erik couldn't stop grinning; Christine kept licking his ear while he was trying to drive, and it was very distracting. "Hey, Becky?"

"Hey, honey, what's up?" Becky replied brightly.

"I want some... sausage," Christine giggled, reaching between his leg and yanking down his zipper. He jerked the wheel, and the car behind him beeped his horn. Erik flipped him off; it was liberating. "Not much; I was wondering what time you would be home tonight."

"It's so big," Christine teased, easing his dick out through his pants. His shirt was still tucked in, and his belt was still fastened. "I don't think it's going to fit..."

Jee-suuus, Erik thought. His right hand clutched the wheel tighter, and he glanced around the interstate nervously. Was this even legal?

"Oh, I'm not sure yet," Becky replied. "I was going to take Zack over to my mother's and spend the evening there, Dan and Sarah are going to be there with their kids too. Do you want to join us?"

_Score_! "Oh, you know what, Becky, I've got a lot of work to do before the break starts... I think I'm going to stay at school late tonight." Erik replied, trying to catch his breath. Men weren't hardwired to multitask like this- drive, talk to his wife on his cell, and get his dick sucked by Christine all at the same time.

"Oh, alright. Don't work too hard!" She scolded playfully. "I'll see you later honey, I love you."

"I- I love you too..." He replied faintly. Christine was torturing him, literally torturing him. He tossed the phone in the back seat and tried to adjust himself, but it was difficult when he was driving. She circled the head with her tongue, and looked up at him expectantly. "Feel good?" she purred.

"Jesus Christ," he swore, narrowly making his exit. Another car beeped behind him. "You have no idea."

"Tell me," she whispered, taking him back in her mouth. "Tell me what it feels like."

"It feels like... urgh," He struggled to keep his eyes open in the wake of the awesome wave of pleasure that seeped over him. "Like hot, wet, tight, suction, just wrapped around my dick, so good, so good... shit, Christine," He looked down quickly in shock; she was reaching for his balls. His eyes widened, and she squeezed. "Oooh..."

"I missed you, Professor," she suddenly said very sweetly. "I missed you so much, when I wasn't allowed to talk to you." She stopped everything and gently rested her head on his thigh; it looked very uncomfortable, but her eyes were shut peacefully.

Erik was torn between strangling her for teasing him like that, and wanting to cuddle her in his arms and rub her back in circles like a baby. He kept his left hand on the wheel, and started stroking her cheek. "My poor baby," he crooned. "I missed you too."

"Take me to the cabin in the forest!" she demanded suddenly. She sat up wildly (Erik swerved again) and clawed his thigh with her nails. "I want to go to the cabin in the forest!"

"Christine," Erik protested. "You're not dressed sweetheart, look at you. You're going to freeze."

"I am dressed!" she insisted with a giggle. She started pulling down her long underwear and showed him her panties, complete with purple and pink butterflies. "See, if I _wasn't_ dressed, it would look like this..."

"You're wearing Long Johns, Christine, those aren't real clothes. It's almost freezing outside! I'm taking you to your dorm," Erik protested weakly.

Christine reached her hand back into his pants, coaxed him back into health slowly, and then caught his eye. He swallowed helplessly. "You're so hard," she whispered. "You missed me, Professor. You missed getting this hard." She leaned down and took him all in her mouth.

"Ok, ok, I'll take you- I'll take you t-to the cabin in the forest..."

"Christine's fucking her professor," Meg steamed as she slammed the door behind her. "I just got back from the hospital."

"Ohhhh no..." Sauna sighed, muting the television in front of her. "What happened?"

Meg threw her keys on Sauna's tiny kitchen table and slumped into a chair. "This is the last year I'm going to be Nanny McPhee, that's what happened," she muttered angrily. "I can't take this much longer, Sau. She's driving me crazy."

Sauna walked into the kitchenette and started preparing a pot of tea. "Tell me about it," she said mildly. "What happened?"

"You remember the teacher I introduced you to at homecoming?" Meg asked. "With the blonde wife and the really cute little boy? And he wears this really weird mask on his face?"

Sauna frowned in thought as she rummaged through her cabinets to find some cookies. "Yes... he taught English or something, didn't he? I remember a mask. What about him?"

"Well, he's the one Christine's been fucking." Meg muttered, gratefully taking a cookie from the plate Sauna offered her. "Since, like, October! Have you ever known Christine to have the attention span of more than an _hour_, at most? And that's only if she's watching a Disney movie! This thing has been going on since the beginning of school!"

"It was only a matter of time," Sauna said knowingly. She popped a cookie into her mouth and shook her head. "I'm not surprised at all, Christine is that type of girl. And it's not like this is the first time something like this has happened-"

"But I think..." Meg's eyes were wide, and she looked like she wasn't quite sure how to word her thoughts. "Sau, I think she actually... _likes_ him. That's the really weird part about this whole fucking stupid dumb thing!"

"Why do you say that?" Sauna asked.

"I told you I just got back from the hospital?" Meg said. "Well, it was Christine. She had a panic attack this morning, but it was out of control. She was trying to attack me! I called an ambulance, and somehow this guy found out what happened, found her at the hospital, and paid her bill."

Sauna covered her mouth. "Is she alright?" she asked in concern. "Panic attacks aren't _dangerous_, are they...?"

"She's fine. Never been better. Took a nap, got a prescription for some anti-anxieties, and she was on her way. _With_ her professor. 'I'm going to take her home,' he said. Bullshit! They're going to go fuck, that's what they're going to do!" Meg exploded, slapping her palm on the table. She stood up and started pacing.

"Wait, but why do say she likes him?" Sauna asked in confusion. "Just because they're sleeping together, well... this is Christine we're talking about."

"Because he's the reason she had the panic attack!" Meg cried. "She went wacko- over this guy!"

"How old is he?" Sauna asked curiously. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her leg. "I don't really remember what he looked like, all I remember is a white mask."

"He's gotta be in his mid to late forties, at _least_," Meg sighed, sitting back down at the table. "Maybe fifty, I don't know. He's got, you know, like salt and pepper, graying at the temples, that kind of thing going on. He's _old_, Sauna," she moaned, pressing her face into the table. "But Christine is gaga over him!"

"Should you report him?" Sauna wondered. "Tell the Dean?"

Meg sighed. "I threatened him. Before Christine had the panic attack- she was just _depressed_, _I_ felt like slitting my wrists. She wouldn't sleep, eat- Sau, you know Christine, she weighs like twenty pounds."

Sauna nodded and Meg continued. "So I went to his office and I was like, listen dude. Talk to her, or I rat on your ass. Straight up." She laughed. "He looked terrified, I kind of feel bad now. But seriously, Christine was practically killing herself because he wouldn't talk to her. I couldn't take it anymore."

The tea kettle started screaming and Sauna stood up to tend to it. "So you don't know where they went now?" She asked, pouring two cups.

"Nope." Meg replied. "She just said, 'Bye bye Meg, Professor's taking me to get ice cream!' and took off. He told me he would take her back, thank you very much for your discretion, blah blah blah." She rolled her eyes. "Sau, I think I'm a saint. What do you think?"

Sauna passed her the sugar and plate of cookies. "I don't think the Church canonizes lesbians, darling," she said regretfully. "But otherwise, of course. You could give Mother Teresa a run for her money."

"Professor, find the radio," Christine demanded sleepily, pinching his stomach. He sucked in and rolled over to avoid her hands. She giggled and found his tummy again, and again she tried to pinch him. "I got your tummy," she taunted happily.

"Christine," he whined. "Not all of us are thirty percent below our ideal body mass. You're making me self-conscious."

She burrowed her face in the fold out bed and then looked up at him with a wrinkled nose. "What does _that_ mean?" She asked. "You're confusing me!"

He grabbed her waist with a growl and pulled her on top of him, so she was sitting on his belly. He could barely feel her, she was so tiny. "I'm not a trim young man anymore," he said sheepishly. "I'm a portly middled aged teacher."

She leaned forward and rested her cheek against his chest. "What does portly mean?" she wondered.

"Fat."

"You're not fat!" she exclaimed, sitting up. He grunted when her bony butt moved against his intestines. "Why would you say that, silly?"

"Look at me," he sighed, gesturing to his middle. "I've gone soft. I'm an old man."

"I like it," she purred affectionately. "You're cuddly, like a teddy bear. I think you're perfect."

"I think _you're_ perfect," Erik replied with a smile.

"No, I think _you're_ perfect!" Christine giggled. "Get the radio!"

"How do you know there's a radio here anyway?" Erik grumbled, leaning over his side of the bed to look. He found it, already plugged into the wall, and hoisted it onto the fold out bed with them. "Ugh, gross, Christine, this thing is going back on the floor, look at how dirty it is!"

"No no no!" she cried. "I want to listen to music!"

He grimaced and pushed it her way. "I want you to wash your hands later, do you understand?" he said nervously. "Who knows what kind of bacteria is on that thing..."

"Ooh, I love this song!" she clapped her hands together happily. "It's Fergie, it's my favorite."

Erik rolled onto his side and watched her with a peaceful smile. She was mouthing the words along with the singer- some hip-pop, bubble gum music that he wasn't familiar with. The most current music he was familiar with was Britney Spears, and that was only because he saw her in the papers every time he went grocery shopping.

"You're so sweet," he sighed, reaching out and stroking her leg. "I'm sorry about everything."

"What's your favorite song?" she interrupted curiously, wiggling her toes in his direction. "_I_ have lots of favorite songs."

He leaned his head back on his arms and looked at her thoughtfully. "You know, I've never really thought about it," he realized. "I don't think I have one."

She gasped and crawled up next to him. "But you _have_ to have a favorite song," she insisted with big eyes. "_Everyone_ has a favorite song!"

He kissed her nose and grinned. "Sing me a song," he requested. "Then I'll decide."

She sat back up and tapped her head, like she was deep in thought. "Hmmm," she said in mock seriousness. "What song shall I sing?"

Erik grabbed the radio and started scanning the different stations. He found an old Barbra Streisand hit, and turned it up. "There," he smiled, pointing at the radio. "Sing that for me."

She nodded determinedly and furrowed her brow in concentration. After a moment, she turned it down almost completely, opened her mouth, and started to sing. "People who need people are the luckiest people in the world..." She trailed off, turned the radio up again and listened some more. After she got the gist of it, she turned it down again. "Lovers are very special people- they're the luckiest people in the world."

Erik's jaw dropped. He could literally feel it hit his knees, it dropped so hard. He licked his lips and tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. If a naked Christine wasn't sitting right in front of him, he would've sworn that he had just heard... Barbra Striesand.

"How did you do that?" he asked in awe.

She tilted her head and smiled. "Do what?"

"You sounded _exactly_ like Barbra Striesand," Erik exclaimed. "Like you were Fanny Brice, sitting right in front of me! How did you _do _that?"

She shrugged. "I copied her. I listened to her, and then I copied her."

"Do it again," he demanded. He grabbed the radio and switched to another station. "Ok, this is Janice Joplin. Sing it for me."

She did the same thing- turned it up, listened intently, and then opened her mouth and wa-bam! Erik was sitting right next to Janice Joplin. "If you ever want me, come on and cry, cry baby... yeah cry baby..."

Erik blinked. This had to be a dream. He had seen celebrity impersonators before, but this was beyond a good imitation. She sounded just like Janice Joplin, scratchy voice and all! "Sing this!" he said in excitement, changing the station again. And again, and again, and again.

"Tryin' to make me go to rehab..."

"I guess that's why they call it the blues..."

"Oops! I did it again..."

"Oh baby when you talk like that!"

"Come fly with me..."

"Professor..." Christine whined. "I don't want to sing anymore, this is boring. Get naked again, I wanna kiss you..." she crawled over the radio and into his arms, and tried to grab him under the blankets. He kicked his feet and pulled the blanket over her too, but turned the radio up once more.

"Ok baby, just try to sing one more for me, ok? This is the last one, I promise." He pressed his face into her back and held his breath in anticipation. She sighed and turned the radio up a little more, listened to it for about five seconds, then turned to him in shock.

"I can't sing that!" she exclaimed. "Are you wacko?"

"Oh, come on, please, just try, try for me?" he begged. "Just try, and if you can't, then we'll be done and I won't make you sing anything else. Please?" His hand found her nipple and he tweaked it very gently. She sighed and turned it up again, grabbing his hand and keeping it in place while she listened. Finally, she turned it down and opened her mouth. Erik held his breath.

"Un bel di vedremo..."

Erik's dick sprang to attention and he saw stars. He shut the radio off abruptly, and turned to Christine. She looked at him uneasily. "Professor?" she mumbled. "Did I sing it ok?"

"I love you," he blurted, pulling her on top of him. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."


	21. The Way You Look Tonight

Erik couldn't remember the last time he felt so... wired. So hyped up and ready to take on anything. It felt like it had been a long time, and he felt like he had forgotten what it felt like. Not that he didn't have meaning in his life- he loved his children, and he liked his job, and he and Becky had a secure, safe relationship.

But Christine made him feel out of control!

After she sang for him, his adoration for her jumped to a whole new level. Had he even adored her before? He certainly cared for her, he couldn't deny that. He even loved her, in the warped and twisted way he saw her as both an arousing and sexual being and something of a daughter figure too. But when he heard her voice...

_"I love you," he blurted, pulling her on top of him. "I love you, I love you, I love you..."_

She told him she loved him too. She said it the way a child obligatorily tells their parents or grandma everyday. They say I love you, you say it back. _"I love you too Professor," she smiled, tapping him on his nose playfully._

That made him love her even more. She didn't analyze their relationship and decide whether or not she was ready to commit to such emotional responsibility. She didn't agonize over what to call their status- were they _dating_, or _seeing_ each other, or _talking_? She didn't have the guile! She didn't care! She just wanted to kiss him!

"Whoa!" she exclaimed breathily. She started to fan herself and stuck out her tongue in mock exhaustion. "Wh-o-o-o-a! That was _awesome_!"

Erik let out a barely audible grunt and tried to catch his breath. He wished he had one of those blood pressure meter things, because he seriously felt like he was on the edge of a heart attack. And he certainly did not trust Christine to know what to do if he just dropped dead on her chest.

She giggled obliviously, still breathing heavily. He was still collapsed on her tummy, after all. "You were awesome!" she exclaimed in delight. "I think I did it like, ten times! That was _fun_!"

He grunted again and tried to move, but when he did, he felt his back give out on him. He groaned loudly and buried his face back in her belly. He was so _old_.

Christine started wriggling beneath him anxiously. "Let's do it again!" she demanded, tapping him on the shoulder. "I want to do that again!"

"Christine," he wheezed. "I can't move."

"I know!" she squealed. "I feel like I can't move either! That was really really really fun! Come on, I wanna do it again!" She started wiggling even more, and she attempted to roll him over, but he grunted and stayed where he was.

"No, really," he insisted. "I think I just threw out my back. I can't move at all."

"What do you mean, you can't move?" she demanded. "Are you stuck or something?"

"My- back," he said through gritted teeth. "Is hurting me very, very much, Christine. That's what happens to old people. Please, just stay still for a minute. I should be fine in a minute."

"Soooo..." she blinked down at him. "Are you stuck?"

"Yes, I'm stuck!" he snapped. She closed her mouth and leaned back against the pillow in defeat. He could feel her desperately trying not to wriggle and fuss beneath him, but he also knew he weighed a good hundred pounds more than her, and she wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

He was right. After two minutes, she tapped his head tentatively. "Are you still stuck?" she whispered.

Erik flexed his right foot, and then his left, and then tried moving his legs. With a loud grunt, he managed to roll himself onto his back next to Christine. "Not as much," he panted. "Ugh, Jesus Christ, my back is killing me!"

Her face lit up, and she pressed her breasts against him flirtatiously. "Can we do it again?" she whispered, licking his earlobe. "I want to do it again."

His face reddened and he covered it with his hands. "No." he muttered under his breath.

Her face fell and she started walking her fingers down below his waist. "Why not?" she whined. "You don't want to?"

He peeked at her through his fingers and felt bad. He hurt her feelings; she probably thought he didn't want her or something. "I _do_ want to," he assured her. "I just... can't."

She brightened slightly, and let her hand move down even more. "Yes you can," she purred. "Let me help yo-"

"Ah-h-h-h!" he yelped, arching his back away from her wandering fingers. She looked at him like he had lost his mind. "What's wrong?" she asked, startled. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he panted. "I just can't just yet, Christine. And it's _very_, very sensitive right now."

"Why can't you?" she pouted. "_I_ can."

"Because I'm _old_," he moaned. "And I can't get it up!"

She blinked. "You... can't..." She furrowed her brow and curled her leg over his stomach. "I don't understand. Why not? Don't you like me?" She batted her eyelashes and kissed his mask sweetly.

"I love you." he breathed, pushing her hair back and kissing her forehead. "I love you."

"So let's do it!" she moaned, nuzzling her face into his chest. She started playing with his chest hair and tried to tickle her fingers below his waist, but he grabbed her hand and gently put it back on his chest.

"Christine, the older men get..." he began with difficulty. "It takes longer."

"Longer?" she repeated faintly.

"Like, at least an hour, Christine," he said apologetically. "I'm sorry, honey. I wish I could go for hours with you, trust me I would if I could..." He buried his face in her hair to hide his burning cheek. How humiliating.

"Oh..." she whispered. She made a little noise in the back of her throat and cuddled closer to him. "I'm sorry Professor. We can just cuddle then." She smiled beatifically and rested her head against him, but Erik could tell she was itching to do more. Insatiable. "I like your chest hair," she giggled, threading her fingers through it. "So fuzzy."

"You like my chest hair?" he growled, playfully pretending to bite her fingers. She squealed and tried to yank them away. "Tell me!" He wouldn't let go.

"Yes!" she shrieked with laughter and bit his shoulder. He winced and rolled over slowly, draping his arm over her waist. "Does your back still hurt?" she asked.

He sighed and nodded. "Yes," he replied glumly. "It's probably going to hurt for a few days."

"... p-p-poor, poor Professor," she pouted. "I can give you a massage; want a massage? Raoul says I'm good at that." She smiled and tried to roll him over, but he grunted and resisted.

"_Raoul_," he muttered. "Can we refrain from mentioning his name when we're naked in bed please?"

She started twisting his chest hair again carelessly. "You don't like Raoul?" She leaned down and slowly kissed his nipple, staring him straight in the eye. "He doesn't have any chest hair..."

"Because Raoul is probably a good twenty five years younger than me." Erik pointed out. "More probably, thirty years. Jesus, you kids are young."

"How old is Alex?" She suddenly asked, absentmindedly taking his wrist into her hand and playing with his watch.

"She's twenty five. She'll be twenty six in two months," Erik answered quickly.

Christine smiled impishly. "I'm eight years younger than your daughter?" She giggled. "She's so old."

"She's not old, you're just young," he replied simply. "Come here, you," He teased, grabbing her and pressing his lips against her hairline. "You're _mine_," he murmured, holding her as tight as possible. She snuggled against him happily, and Erik knew not to encourage the topic of his daughter. It wasn't exactly hard to notice his Sex Baby was jealous of his Real Baby; Christine was not exactly the most subtle person he had ever met.

Suddenly, he felt a buzzing somewhere near his knee. Christine felt it too, and looked up with huge eyes. "Is that a toy?" she asked excitedly. "A toy for me?"

"Haha, no," he said nervously. "That's my phone- can you get it, sweetheart? I can barely move."

She obliged, and crawled onto his tummy with her bare behind right in his face. When she got under the covers and started looking for the vibrating phone, her breasts brushed against his dick, and he briefly doubted the lecture he had given her about the sexual refractory period in middle aged men.

"Christine!" he warned weakly. "Phone, phone, focus!"

"I _am_ focusing!" She insisted, slowly arching her back and thrusting her vagina even closer to his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled, and swallowed shakily. She smelled like girl, delicious, delicious, sexed _girl_.

"Found it!" She called triumphantly, haphazardly crawling back to his face. He grunted when a bony ribcage pierced his gut, and tried to grab her waist and steady her. The phone had stopped vibrating.

He flipped it open, and sure enough, saw One Missed Call from Becky. He took a deep breath, tried to sit up and well as he could, and looked Christine in the eye. "Be very, very quiet, ok?" He said seriously. "I'm going to call Becky. _Be good._"

She nodded obediently and started playing with his watch again. "Yes, _sir_," She mock saluted him.

"Hey, Becky, did you just call?" Erik said in a would be calm voice. Christine continued playing with his watch, but began staring at him curiously, like she was observing how he spoke to his wife. Erik blinked and tried to avoid her gaze- it was unsettling.

"Yes, Erik, how's it going?" Becky asked happily. She actually sounded a bit tipsy. "Working hard?"

"Oh yes, I'm working very hard," he lied uneasily. Christine clambered into his lap and he steadied her waist distractedly. "_Be quiet!_" he mouthed. She crossed her eyes and stuck out her tonuge.

"Ok, well, I was calling to let you know that I think I'm going to stay here for the night with Zack. I've had a little bit of eggnog, and I don't think I'm safe to drive-" She giggled at something her brother said, and Erik's eyes widened. What were the chances?

"Oh- so you'll be staying there tonight?" he clarified. "With Zack? All night?"

"Yes, we're spending the night. Erik please don't forget to feed Cesar and take him for a walk- he's hungry. Are you going home soon?"

He grinned and kissed Christine's neck. "I'm going home right now."

--

Christine did not know that Erik had a dog. Christine was very, very excited to learn that Erik had a dog. Christine _adored_ dogs.

"I didn't know you had a dog!" She squealed in delight as a hulking, slobbering, chocolate lab attacked her with licks in the foyer. "I love dogs!" She crooned and baby talked and even tried to kiss him back- Erik stopped her when he saw that one.

"Yes, his name is Cesar," Erik smiled. "Cesar, come, are you hungry?" Cesar promptly forgot about Christine and bounded into the kitchen excitedly. Christine skipped and jumped behind them both.

"Seh-sar?" She wrinkled her nose. "What kind of a name is that?"

Erik grabbed a napkin and wrote it down for her. "It's French," he explained. "I think it means hairy."

"_See-_zer!" she said. "Like the salad!"

"No, _Seh-_sar," Erik repeated. "Say sar."

"See-zer."

"Seh-sar!" Erik finished feeding the lab and turned back to the napkin impatiently, prepared to explain the differences in pronunciation between French and English, but as soon as he stood up, she plopped down on the floor. Boring!

"What kind of a puppy is he?" She wondered, patting his back complacently.

Erik's eyes widened briefly in disbelief (such attention span!), and he peered down at her. She was still wearing her pajamas, the thin, childish long Johns, and had her hair tied back in a hasty braid. _Hot Teen Cheerleaders_, he could see it now. Dear Lord.

"He's a Labrador," he replied. "A chocolate lab."

"How old is he?"

"Seven."

"When'd you get him?"

"... seven years ago."

"Who does he belong to?"

"All of us."

"Why?"

"Why... does he belong to all of us?" Erik scratched his head.

"No, why did you get him! Duh."

"Oh, well... because."

"Do you have any other puppies?"

"Cesar's not really a puppy-"

"Oh, look!" she cried, suddenly looking out the window. "A tire swing!" And just like that, she quickly forgot about Cesar and clambered out of the kitchen, out of the breakfast nook, and out the back door. "Your backyard is so pretty!" she called over her shoulder. Erik was still jogging through the breakfast nook.

"Push me," she demanded when he finally got outside.

"Christine, are you insane? It's like, fifty degrees, I'm not going to push you!" He fussed. "_I'm_ freezing, and I'm wearing a sweater. You're- you're wearing underwear! Get back inside!"

"Bring me your jacket!" she whined, twirling and whirling and swinging on the swing.

He opened his mouth to fuss some more, but she bit her lip and spread her legs sexily. Mid-air split. Erik closed his mouth and walked inside.

"Professor!" she squealed happily when he grudgingly handed her his winter coat. "Thank you." She stood on her tiptoes (only wearing socks- he winced) and kissed his good cheek. Her hand brushed against his mask, and she drew back immediately. "Brrrr," she said in alarm. "That thing is cold! You should take it off!"

He stayed silent and helped her back onto the swing. "Button it up," he ordered, adjusting the enormous jacket around her shoulders.

"Why do you wear it?" she wondered.

"Because it's cold." He replied simply.

"Not the _jacket_, the mask," she sighed impatiently. "You are so slow sometimes."

He smiled wordlessly and kept swinging her. He had fought this battle more than enough times with Alex- and no matter what, he knew he would lose. She was a teenager, and ergo, she knew everything. "Because..." he answered vaguely.

"Are you ugly?" she asked bluntly, spinning around to face him. He had to jump out of the way to dodge her dirty socks.

"Yep." he replied, walking back to push her. "Pretty ugly."

"Can I see?" she sounded excited.

"Nope."

"Oh. Ok. Push me higher!" she demanded, kicking her legs to try to help him. "This swing is fun. I wish I had a swing."

"Not when you were growing up?" he wondered curiously.

She turned around again and pointed one muddy sock at his midriff. He squeaked and tried to move, but she caught him, bam. One dirty sock print on his sweater. At least it was already gray. "Hmm..." She leaned her head back and pretended to think. "I do not remember..."

"Where _did_ you grow up?" He asked, trying to brush the dirt off.

"Hmmm... I do not remember..." Another giggle.

"In Connecticut?" He pried.

"Maaaaybe," she replied. Spin, spin, spin, spin. "Maaaaybe not..."

"I grew up in France," he offered. "In Paris, actually. I was even alive during the protests in '68."

"What's that?" She wrinkled her nose.

He sighed and shook his head. "Never mind," He patted her head. "You're way too young to know about that."

"I remember 9/11," she informed him. "I was alive then."

"I should hope so," He replied. "That was only only a few years ago!"

"I was... in sixth grade." She recalled. "We saw it on the TV. Scary."

"Sixth grade?" Erik wheezed. "I was... forty three? Oh God." He thumped his head against the tire miserably. "I'm such a pervert."

"But I like you," She said gently. She tickled his side and he grunted. "Even if you are a pervert. It's ok. I want to go inside now." She stood up and skipped back into the house. He groaned and slowly followed her.

"You speak French?" she asked him as soon as he was inside. He grabbed her before she stepped into the breakfast nook and bent down to remove her socks. She rolled her eyes.

"Oui oui," He replied.

"Say something!" She demanded excitedly. "Say something in French!"

"Qu'est-ce que je dois dire?" He asked, ushering her into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

Her eyes widened in wonder and she followed him in awe. "What does _that_ mean?" She asked in a hushed voice.

"It means I'm not sure when you last ate, and since you have a tendency to _forget_ to eat, I thought I should ask and remind you." He said simply. "Hungry?"

"_No_!" she moaned. "The French part!"

"Oh. That. I asked what I should say," he replied with a grin. "I didn't know what you wanted me to say."

"Say something else." She demanded, jumping up on the counter and settling in comfortably. He peered at her sternly, and she reluctantly hopped off. "Say something else, please?" She asked innocently.

"D'accord. Je t'aime. Nous ne devons pas etre ensemble, parce que j'ai une femme et deux enfants, et t'es trop jeune pour moi, mais je t'aime. T'es belle, et gentille, et tu _peux_ etre intelligente, mais... je croix que tu es trop paresseuse." He smiled indulgently and tucked some hair behind her ear.

She stared at him in shock. "Whoa," she said. "Whoa."

"I think you should go take a shower," he said decisively. "Would you like to take a shower?"

She nodded dumbly. "Ok." she shrugged. "Sure."

"I'm going to make you something nice." He kissed her cheek and grinned deviously. "Do you like wine?"

She blinked her enormous eyes and shook her head. "I've never had any," she replied. "I had tequila and I had beer but I never had wine."

He tilted his head. "Would you like some?" he murmured. "I have a bottle of very expensive red wine I could open, if you'd like."

She smiled shyly. "Yeah." She nodded eagerly. "I want some."

"Go take a- go take a bath," He changed his mind. "I'll meet you up there in a second, go up to my bathroom."

"Ok!" She turned and skipped up the stairs. "And don't touch anything!" he called after her.

Christine had never seen such a pretty bathroom in her life. There were mirrors everywhere- and so many Christines! It was slightly unsettling. She wasn't sure how much she liked seeing lots of herself. She turned on the bath water and made sure it was very hot.

"Oooh..." she murmured, spotting several pretty bottles on the vanity. She sat down and examined them- there were so many! Face cream, overnight face cream, eye cream, body lotion, anti-aging, perfume, eau de toilette, bath salts- bath salts! She opened the bottle and poured some in the tub. It smelled like gardenia. She found some matching bubble bath and poured that in as well.

Next, she opened the drawers. Make-up! She bit her lip in excitement and pulled out a lipstick. It was bright red. She pursed her lips, applied it, then blew a kiss to her reflection. "You look vunderful, dahling," she purred. She also saw a pair of sunglass; those went on as well. "You look ah-bsolutely fahbulous!"

She stripped down but kept the lipstick and sunglasses. Just as she was lowering herself into the fragrant, bubbling water, Erik walked in with two glasses of red wine. He stopped and raised his eyebrows when he saw her in the sunglasses and lipstick.

"I- ah... here's your wine," He laughed kneeling down beside the tub. His back screamed in pain.

She peered at him over the sunglasses and took the wine haughtily. "Why thank you, daaahling," she drawled. She looked down at the glass in her hand and tentatively took a sip. She smacked her lips together and looked at him thoughtfully. "Quite a robust Merlot," she observed conversationally.

His jaw dropped in shock. "Excuse me?" He asked. "How do you know about wine?"

She pushed the glasses up on her head and broke into an adorable grin. "I saw that in a movie once," she confided. "I always wanted to say it!"

He threw his head back and laughed. "You never stop amazing me," he said softly. "You're so..."

"Gaw-geous?" She demanded, posing and making kissy noises. "Fabulous?" She put the sunglasses back on and reclined in the tub like a movie star.

"Something like that," He smiled. He rolled up his sleeve and dipped his hand in the water, but recoiled when he got past the bubbles. "Ouch!" He muttered. "Christine, this water is scorching!"

"I know," She giggled. "I like it like that. Will you wash my hair?" She pulled it out of its braid and shook it loose, splashing bubbles everywhere. Erik had never seen such _curly_ hair- and so much hair! It easily covered her breasts and fell down to her belly button. Becky's hair was shoulder length, smooth, and blonde.

"Put your head under the water," he ordered gently. "I'll be right back."

A moment later, Christine heard music drifting in from his bedroom. She scrunched up her nose and tilted her head, trying to make out what song it was. It sounded unfamiliar, slow, happy... she smiled when Erik walked back in. "What is this?" She wondered, splashing the bubbles aimlessly.

"This song... is by Dinah Washington," he replied, lowering himself back to his knees with a grunt. He eased her head under water and started massaging her scalp. "Call Me Irresponsible-" He paused and kissed her shoulder. "It's appropriate, don't you think?"

"You listen to old people music," she giggled softly, blowing a bubble at him. "It's pretty."

He smiled and kept massaging the shampoo into her curly, curly hair. They sat in a comfortable silence, with Christine soaking in the boiling hot water like a little chicken, stewing in a pot, and Erik methodically sudsing up her hair. Finally, he spoke, about something that had been weighing on his mind all day.

"When Alex was here," He began uneasily. "I didn't send you away because I don't care for you. I was scared- I didn't think I would be able to hide how _much_ I cared for you, in front of her. I'm sorry." He sighed, and rested his hands on her shoulders.

She turned around on wobbly knees and faced him. Her wide face was open, smooth, trusting. She leaned up and placed a clumsy, slightly soapy kiss on his lips, and then she tottered back in the water with a splash. "Whoops," she giggled sheepishly.

"You'll hurt yourself," Erik admonished her gently, sadly. "Please don't- don't ever make yourself sick like that again, Christine. Not for me- not for anyone! You can really hurt yourself, sweetheart, you know?" Erik found himself choking up, and he cursed his male menopausal hormones. He felt like a wet mother hen.

"I'm sorry." Christine looked down, apologetic and contrite. She looked up after a moment and giggled deviously. "More, please?" She held up her empty wine glass. Erik blinked in disbelief (he hadn't even seen her drink it!) and nodded, grabbing his own glass as well. His jaw dropped in shock- his was empty too!

"Christine- did you-?" He furrowed his brow and held up the empty wine glass accusingly.

She covered her face behind the bubbles. Erik could see her smile, even though she tried to hide it. "Oops." She giggled. "More! More, more, more!"

He laughed, loud and deep, like he hadn't laughed in a while. He laughed with Becky of course, and with his students, but never as much as with Christine. Never the same _type_ of laugh- a deep, genuine, belly laugh. "You're insane!" he accused, filling both of their glasses.

She grabbed hers from his outstretched hand and reclined in the bubbles once more. "Why thank you, daaahling," she spluttered, accidently getting bubbles in her mouth. "Ew," she moaned. She looked like a cat spitting out a hairball.

Erik finally finished washing her hair, and conditioning it, and then brushing out the tangles- a good ten minutes just brushing, at least. By the time they had finished just her hair, the bottle of wine was nearly empty. Christine was two steps away from being _gone_.

Now, Erik was no lightweight. He was a large man, about six four, and a good, solid two hundred pounds, at least. But even five or six glasses of Merlot was enough for him to... loosen up a little. He was still completely sober, don't be mistaken, but he was certainly laughing a lot easier.

"Professor..." Christine threw back her head and laughed. And laughed, and laughed, and laughed. Erik laughed too, and vaguely wondered what she was like when she was high. "I think you should get in the tub with me."

"Christine, I'm still dressed," he protested weakly. She grabbed his collar and splashed enticingly. He spit out bubbles, and tried to pull back, but she overpowered him and started pulling off his sweater. He had no choice but to start undressing himself as well.

"You're so big and strong!" She cooed, running her fingers through his chest hair. She kept pulling him in, little by little, until he was finally completely soaked, still wearing his socks and boxer briefs.

"And you're drunk!" He declared trying to stand up and get out. She grabbed his hips and yanked, but Erik stayed standing and his underwear fell to his knees, floating atop the bubbles.

Her eyes widened. "Oh!" She exclaimed. "Oops! Is that for me?" She didn't wait for an answer, and practically shoved his half flaccid, half hard dick down her throat.

"Ahhh... that was a surprise," He panted.

"You taste so good..." she slurred. "Oh- mmm..." Erik recognized those whimpers- he looked down at her in shock, now fully hard. Her hand was suspiciously absent, hidden under the bubbles, probably between her own legs. She yelped and her mouth formed an even tighter O around him.

"Did you just _come_?" he asked in disbelief, feeling dangerously close to doing so himself.

She nodded weakly. "Yes sir. Will you please fuck me now?"

She just came from sucking him off. Jesus Christ. Erik looked over his shoulder vaguely, as he lowered himself into the water. She climbed into his lap, ready to cuddle from her post orgasm glow; he quickly pushed into her and started thrusting. The bottle of wine was completely empty.

She didn't even move. She just wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. The most he heard from her was a soft 'oh!' or a tiny grunt when he thrust harder. She gently sank her incisors, her canines, her molars, pre-molars- all into his neck, and he came. Heaven. Heaven.

_Heaven._

--

"I feel like a grown-up," she whispered to him when they in bed. Her eyes were wide and earnest in wonderment. "Is this what it feels like to be a grown up?"

"No," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "This is what it feels like before you're a grown up. When you're still innocent."

"Will you dance with me?" She wondered sleepily. The radio was still playing, and it was soothing her to sleep. She wanted to dance to it, it sounded so pretty.

"Come," He held out his hand and lifted her out of bed. He had never seen Becky's cream satin robe look so beautiful. She stumbled next to him and giggled, still very, very drunk. He balked at the idea of the next morning, nursing her through her inevitable hang over before Becky came home, but when she clumsily stepped onto his feet, he realized he didn't mind.

"I have to dance on your feet," she whispered. "Dance with me.

He walked her in slow, soothing circles around the room as Tony Bennett's voice washed over them both. _Never ever change... keep that breathless charm..._ "Won't you please arrange it?" He started humming in her ear. "Because I love you..." He slowly walked to the radio with her still on his feet and turned it off. Her breathing was steady and deep- he kissed her forehead and tucked her in his bed. "Just the way you look tonight..."


	22. Ugly Together

"Uh oh."

Erik grunted in his sleep and pulled a pillow over his head. His hand reached out and tried to find the warm, supple body that had been attached to him all night, but he couldn't find it. And then he heard it again.

"Uh oh."

He shot up. He knew what that uh oh meant. It was the same uh oh he heard from Zack whenever he didn't make it to the toilet in time. He said a quick prayer to God- please, please, don't let it be the same thing...

"Professor..." She was crying. That was a bad sign. Oh Lord. A very bad sign indeed. He blinked furiously, but it was so dark, and his vision was still hazy from the sex and drinking; he reached over and turned on the lamp. Christine was wrapped up in the blanket (that's why he was so cold!) and looking very pale and very sick.

"I don't feel so good..." she bleated, crawling to him expectantly. "My tummy hurts. I think I'm going to throw up."

"Ok, baby, just hold it in for me, ok? Don't do it here, because then I'll have to clean it up. Just hold on a second, hold on..." He grabbed her, blanket and all and bounded into the bathroom. She moaned and started gagging on his neck and he directed her face to the toilet.

_BLEEEEH! RETCH!_

Gross. He had to look away in disgust. He hated it when Zack got sick- something about children being sick seemed so much worse than when adults were. Perhaps they hadn't enough practice to be controlled about it yet.

Retch, retch, retch. "P-p-professor!" she turned to him piteously and rested her trembling cheek on the toilet seat. "I don't feel good."

"I know, honey," he cooed sympathetically. "It's all that wine from last night."

"Then why aren't you getting sick?" she wailed, throwing up again. Now he felt that tenderness, that _need_ to take care of her- every time she retched, her whole tiny little body seized up and was wracked with convulsions. It looked so painful, especially on such a bony, frail frame.

"Because I'm a man, and I'm much bigger than you, and I'm older than you- I have a much higher tolerance, Christine," he explained gently. He started rubbing her back in circles. "You're so tiny- your body can't handle all that alcohol." He brought her closer and kissed her temple. "I shouldn't have let you drink so much."

"I'm mad at you," she sniffed, wiping her mouth and nose on some toilet paper. "I wish you were sick instead."

He smiled dryly. "It would take a lot more than a few glasses of wine to get me as hung over as you. Are you feeling better?"

She shook her head miserably. "No. My head hurts. And my tummy-" Her eyes widened and once again, she threw up violently. Erik winced. He softly pulled back her hair and tied it with a scrunchie he found on the the counter.

"Uuuuuggggh, Professor..." she moaned, hanging her head in the toilet. He pulled her back slightly, closed the lid and flushed, then let her lean back over it again. He stroked her back in soothing circles and cooed and shushed her when she threw up again, and again, and again...

Some twenty minutes later, Christine was curled on the floor, still wrapped in the blanket, with her head in Erik's lap. She was shivering slightly, and looked paler and sicklier than ever. Erik glanced at the clock- it was only twelve thirty at night. It felt so much later- they hadn't been asleep very long.

Suddenly, he heard a buzzing. Christine moaned and shushed him irritably. "Be quiet!" She hissed petulantly. He wordlessly covered her face with the blanket and grabbed the phone on the floor.

"Hello?" He answered in a hushed voice.

"Hey dude, who's this?" A surprised voice replied. "Who is this?"

"Excuse me?" Erik replied irritably. He was not in the mood for prank callers. "Who is _this_?"

"This is Raoul! Where's Christine?"

Oh... shit. Erik held the phone away from his ear and gulped. It was Christine's phone. "I'm sorry, she's not available at the moment, please call again later." He said quickly.

"Wait- who the fuck is this? Let me speak to Chris-"

_Click._ Hang up. Erik gingerly placed the phone by her head. "'s that my phone?" she yawned, pushing her head out from the blanket cocoon she was wrapped in. "Who's calling me?"

"No one." Erik answered succinctly. "All done?"

She nodded her head wearily and rolled over in her cocoon. Erik wiped off the toilet seat, flushed again, and then lifted her to her feet. "Come on, sweetheart, get out of this, you have to brush your teeth," he ordered her gently.

She shook her head and clutched the blanket. "It's cold," she whined. "It's so cold!"

"I know, here just get your hands free then." He helped her untangle key limbs and turned on the faucet for her. "Rinse out your mouth- no, you have to use the mouthwash, Christine." She gargled with a stony glare then spit it out willfully. Erik put some toothpaste on his finger and opened her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose and tried to back away, but he grabbed her chin. "Nnnnoooo," she mumbled. He held out his finger again and she snapped her jaws threateningly. "Grrrrr!"

"Don't you dare bite me, young lady," he warned her. "Open."

She obeyed reluctantly and let him brush her teeth with his finger. She couldn't help it; she bit down a little. When he cried out, she giggled devilishly. "Oop-sy..."

"Alright, bedtime for you," he finally sighed. She wobbled to him in her cocoon and held out her arms sweetly. He lifted her with some difficulty- he could feel his back getting strained again- and carried her to his bed.

"Professor," she whispered, after he turned off the lights. He pulled her closer and made a noise to show he heard her. "What's your name?"

"Erik." He whispered. "Erik Destler."

"You don't have a middle name?" She wondered, absentmindedly twirling his wedding band.

"No," He replied simply. "Do you?"

"Olympia," She whispered, twisting the ring this way and that way. "Like the doll."

"Hoffman," He agreed. "His first love; but it was just an illusion, she wasn't real. Did your parents like opera?"

She shrugged and moved closer to him. "My daddy used to call me doll," she whispered. "He called me baby doll, Barbie doll, porcelain doll... I don't remember him ever calling me my name. Did your daddy call you your name?"

"I never knew my father. He died before I was born." Erik replied. The scent of her hair was so soothing, peaceful... like something sweet. He bent his nose to her neck and inhaled the familiar scent of baby powder, bubble gum, and cotton candy. He kissed her shoulder.

"My daddy's dead too," she murmured. "When Daddy was alive, I wasn't allowed to have boyfriends. He would be mad at me now."

"Shhh," he soothed her. "Don't worry about that- your daddy wouldn't be mad. I'm sure your daddy would just want you to be happy, Christine."

"I have a lot of boyfriends," she whimpered suddenly, turning in his arms to face him. Her eyes were tearing up. "I'm a bad girl- I'm sorry Professor."

"You're not a bad girl, Christine," he assured her. "It's alright to- experiment when you're younger. It's natural, it's part of growing up, honey."

"Sometimes, I feel like all I ever think about is you know what," she confessed earnestly. "I know I'm a bad girl, but I can't stop. I can't stop."

"There's nothing wrong with feeling... very passionate about... certain things, Christine," he said. "That's the way human beings are- we're wired to be sexual creatures. When you're a teenager, you feel natural sexual urges times ten, because your hormones are all over the place, your body is still changing..." He kissed her forehead and searched her eyes. She looked so lost, like she wasn't quite sure what to think. He wondered uneasily if she had ever been given a talk... a warning... some sort of user's guide to her overly sexual body.

"I'm a bad girl," she whimpered. She gazed into his eyes desperately and kissed him very lightly. "I love you, Professor."

He hugged her fiercely. "You are not a bad girl," he insisted in a low voice. "Who told you that?"

"My mommy," she sniffed. "My mommy."

Erik woke Christine up around seven in the morning. She moaned and burrowed under the covers, but he refused to budge. He pulled her up, kissed her forehead, and turned on the light.

"Professor!" she whined, clutching the blanket tight and squinting her eyes. Erik laughed; she looked like a baby kitten, she couldn't open her eyes yet. He relented and shut it off, but still got out of bed.

"Christine, you have to wake up. My wife will be coming home in a few hours, and if I get caught, everyone is getting in _big_ trouble, ok?" He grabbed the blankets above her behind and shook roughly to wake her up.

"Give me a kiss first." she demanded, peeking out from under the covers.

He obliged, and leaned over, but when he was halfway into the bed, she grabbed him and yanked him down. "I got you!" she squealed. She open her eyes completely and looked at him seriously. "I think I need to be woken up, Professor. Will you wake me up?"

"I don't think I've made use of an erection this early in over twenty years," he muttered sheepishly, half collapsing on top of her. She smiled and squeezed his belly tightly. "I can't- breathe-" He grunted, trying to, but not really trying to pry her hands off.

"I need this," she whispered, finding his dick. "You have to help me!"

"Lay back," he breathed, fumbling beneath the blankets. He touched her, and started stroking to bring out the wetness. "Lay back, lay back..."

"No," she giggled. "Scoot back."

He frowned, but obeyed, and sat back on his haunches. She got to her knees, and then turned around, so that she was on her hands and knees, right below him. "Oh, Christine..." he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't think I'll ever get enough of you."

She stayed silent, and slowly pushed her butt back, until it touched his chest. "Do it," she ordered. She giggled breathily, and looked at him over her shoulder. "Do me."

He grabbed his dick and got ready to push inside of her, but then he stopped. He dropped down to his belly and looked up at the delicious, sinfully young orifice he was about to squeeze his dick into. He had decided several weeks earlier that she had the most beautiful private parts he had ever seen. He tried not to, over and over, because it sent such a stab of guilt through his gut, but he just couldn't help it- he had to compare her to Becky.

Becky did not shave, or wax, or epilate, or depilate. Well wait- she _did_ shave- normal things, that's what Erik thought. She shaved her legs and under her arms, just like every other woman he was familiar with did. Except in Paris.

He had _heard_ of the bikini wax, of course- especially with all of the hoopla surrounding the teen pop stars (he still didn't understand the concept of not wearing underwear), but it just seemed like a foreign, painful entity, reserved for porn stars and teeny boppers. He blanched at the thought of pouring hot wax all over one's genitals, then ripping it off, yanking out every single pubic hair in the process. It was_ sick_, masochistic- he painfully remembered the one and only time he allowed Alex to tweeze his eyebrow. 'Just a few hairs here and there, Daddy.'

Ouch.

He was in awe of Christine' _entirely_ hairless nether regions. In awe. He loved touching her- the skin was so _tender_, and soft, and plump... and he loved tasting her. He didn't mind going down on a full bush (not that he ever had to opportunity anymore) but it was admittedly slightly daunting. Not Christine.

"Professor," she giggled, looking down at him between her legs. "What are you doing, silly? I thought you were going to put it in me!"

"I'm examining you," he replied. "Come down a little bit."

She obliged uncertainly- she was almost sitting on his face- and looked down at him again doubtfully. "Like that?" she wondered. "This is kinda weird, Professor."

"Juuuust like that," he breathed, grabbing a hold of her thighs. Now he could understand the appeal of having a woman sit on one's face. Holy moley. He reached up, and gently pried apart her labia. She giggled and wiggled her hips a little bit. She was so tiny. Her clitoris was barely visible- just a little pink bud peeking out from beneath a velvety hood of skin.

He leaned his head up, extended his tongue, and gently pushed it into her vagina. She squeaked and accidently sat on his face completely- he wheezed thinly, and tried to lift her up. Her thighs were trembling. "Do it again," she begged.

He did. He curled his tongue and massaged her walls as well as he could. He traced her labia and tickled her clitoral hood- her breath caught in her throat and she tried to lower herself even more. Finally, he reached up with one hand and pulled it back, leaving her clit quivering and vulnerable to his tongue.

He flicked his tongue experimentally. Her eyes widened and she made a little yelping sound. He pulled the hood back even more and flicked his tongue again. And again, and again. And then, he leaned his head up even further (his neck was going to _hurt_ later) and captured the pink little eraser between his lips.

She made the oddest sound- between a scream, and a cry, and a groan- and collapsed on his face. He lifted her back up and tugged her gently. She panted. He tugged harder and she started to whimper; it sounded like she was going to cry.

He let his tongue soothe the throbbing button, and reached his hand up. His muscles were killing him. "Lift up a little, honey," he murmured, patting her behind. She gasped and pressed herself against him.

"Do that again!" she begged.

He frowned quizzically, between her legs. Do what? He opened his mouth to ask her, but he suddenly realized. And he started to speak. "Is this what you want me to do?" he murmured, keeping his lips as close to her as possible. "Bzzzzzz..."

"Oh, Professor," she breathed. "Professor, Professor, I love you..."

"Bzzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz."

After a few more 'bzzzz', he could sense her tensing up; she got even wetter and pinker. He set his tongue to work, lapping and sucking, and thrusting until his jaw felt like it was going to drop out of his face. Finally, he felt her contract, and then the wetness delicately seeped out of of her swollen folds.

"Daddy..." she whimpered.

Erik strummed his fingers on the steering wheel edgily. He glanced at the passenger's seat; Christine was happily occupied with one of Zack's coloring books she had found under the seat. He squinted to get a closer look; she was coloring Nemo.

He had decided to ignore the name she had breathed as she came on his face. It was too upsetting- he knew if he obsessed over it, it would only drive him insane, so he just decided he didn't hear anything. He didn't bring it up to Christine either- he could understand that in her... passion she might accidentally say someone else's name; it certainly had happened to him in the past. He wasn't going to make her feel bad about it.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Daddy. Daddy. _Daddy_. He gripped the steering wheel and clenched his teeth- _why_ the _fuck_ would she say _Daddy_?

He swallowed and looked at her again. He couldn't ignore it. There was no way. Who was he kidding? He wasn't _supposed_ to ignore that shit, that was the kind of thing you reported to someone, a policeman, a social worker, _someone_.

He wasn't stupid. He knew Christine wasn't normal; but what the fuck, who was he kidding? He wasn't exactly normal either. His mother had done a number on him too, and that was before he got ugly. He still had scars to prove it! But he never thought...

No, he just never thought anything. He decided to ignore it, ignore all of her odd idiosyncrasies, just chalk it up to her being an over-sexed, hormonal teenager, assure himself there was probably a nice innocent reason for her being the way that she was. ADHD, or something like that. Something that could easily be cured with a nice Ritalin everyday.

But Christine could not be cured with Ritalin. He felt a pang in his heart, and glanced at her again. She was humming to herself, absorbed in the coloring book. Alex's old sweatshirt nearly drowned her, and Alex was not even a size six. Christine was probably a negative six.

Erik was a teacher. They warned teachers about children like Christine. _Why_ do children become over-sexed? Where do they learn that type of behavior?

He let her convince him to take her shopping- she _needed_ clothes, Professor, pretty please, she had no money, she would have to walk around _naked_... He only let himself be convinced because he felt guilty- so disgustingly guilty for bringing her to that point, to the point of saying that name.

He examined the blankets and sheets and pillow cases for any evidence of An Underage Student in His Bed, but in the end, he decided to just strip the bed and wash everything. Becky would be pleasantly surprised; she would never suspect he was up to no good. He cleared the bathtub of any residual bubbles, long curly strands of hair, and anything else that could be a red flag alerting his wife to his indiscretions.

He sprayed the room with Febreeze, and hoped that every trace of bubble gum and baby powder was gone.

"Do you like it?" she asked him happily, holding up her picture. She was a surprisingly neat color-er; even though they were in the car, she had managed to stay inside the lines. Blue water, colorful coral, green seaweed, and an orange and white Nemo.

"It's beautiful, sweetheart," he murmured distractedly. "You're so talented."

She turned back to the coloring book, sufficiently satisfied with his generic Daddy-compliment, one that he always used if Alex showed him a new finger painting, or Zack yelled a song from The Lion King. Oh, Jesus- this was why he felt like such a perv with her. Not just because she was practically twelve, but because he always found himself treating her the way he treated his own kids!

He tried to think about being incestuous with Alex, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he wanted to throw up. He opened his window and leaned his elbow out the window. He remembered when she brought home her first Homecoming date; Erik put the boy through twenty questions, and threatened to castrate him if he got any ideas about his baby.

He _still_ couldn't handle the thought of Alex engaged in any sexual activity at all. He didn't want to.

"Christine, honey?" he ventured, gently threading his fingers through hers. She looked up expectantly. "Are we almost there?" she wondered.

"Almost. Fifteen more minutes." He replied uneasily. He looked at their joined hands and wanted to cry. "Christine, when did your parents die?"

She tensed and started blinking. "I don't know," she shrugged. She smiled apologetically. "I forgot."

_I forgot._

You don't forget when your parents die, Erik thought angrily. Not when you're seventeen years old and you still remember your father not allowing you to have a boyfriend.

"Are you sure you don't remember?" He pushed tentatively. "How did they die?"

"In a car accident." she stammered, blinking furiously. "Or no- wait, a heart attack! I don't know!" She turned to him, with hurt filled blue eyes and yanked her hand away from him angrily. "I told you I forgot!"

"How can you _forget_ how your parents died?" He cried. "And when? How do you forget that?"

She covered her ears and shook her head furiously. "I don't know, I don't know! Stop asking me! I forgot!"

"No!" He took her hand again and refused to let go. "Just tell me, Christine, please, you can tell me, it's alright honey," he pleaded. "What happened? Please tell me."

She started sniffling and shaking her head furiously again, like the night she had dinner at his house. "I don't remember! I don't remember, I don't remember, I don't... I don't feel good..." She yanked her hand from him and spun around, opening the window.

_BLEEEEH._

Retch. A car behind him beeped loudly, and then drove up to give Erik a nasty look. "Pull over, asshole!" The man shouted. "Look at my window!" Sure enough, there were spots of vomit covering his passenger window. Erik adjusted his mirrors, and saw the vomit covered right side of his beautiful, shiny, black Lexus SUV.

"Dammit." He muttered. He got off at an earlier exit and found the nearest gas station. Christine had her head pressed against the window; she looked listless and miserable.

He found the car wash, paid, and drove through. As they sat together in tense silence, Erik's phone started buzzing. his heart palpitated, like it always did when Becky called and he was with Christine. He took a deep breath.

"Becky?" He answered.

"Hey honey, where are you?" Becky replied. She sounded like she was out of breath; Erik heard Zack babbling in the background.

"I'm um, going to school for the day," he fibbed.

"School? Why? Wasn't yesterday the last day?" She asked.

"Yes, but I'd like to get some things together, you know, before the holiday. Grade some papers... where are you?"

"I _just_ got home, right now," she replied. "Come on Zacky, let's go!" She called. Erik could picture her holding out her hand for Zack while he tottered slowly behind her. When Alex was a little, she ran everywhere. Zack walked everywhere _slowly_.

Christine suddenly reached out for the radio. Erik jumped, she came out of nowhere. The screen in front of him prompted him to drive forward. He did and nervously eyed her hand. She turned the volume up, and found pop rock hipping hopping station- whatever. He glared at her and turned it down.

She glared back and turned it back up.

"Erik, hello? What are you doing, can you turn the radio down?" Becky said. "I said I think I'm going to make bratwurst and spatzle, is that alright?"

"German?" he murmured, grabbing Christine's wrist and holding it down. She started whimpering; he _knew_ she was doing it on purpose. He squeezed harder. "Yes, that's alright, that's fine with me," he replied hastily.

"Ok then. I'll see you later Erik. Love you."

"Love- you- too," he grunted, wrestling with Christine's hand. He managed to hang up right before she let out a high pitched yelp and bit him. He angrily drove out of the car wash and parked to the side. "What the hell is the matter with you? Becky could've heard you!" he snarled.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't fool around with your students," she sniffed imperiously. "Especially your _underage_ students. If you're so scared of getting in trouble."

Erik's jaw dropped and he looked at her in disbelief. Her arms were crossed defensively and she was staring at him like she was daring him to get into a fight with her. She was _asking _for it.

"Listen to me," He said in a low voice. "Don't push me, Christine. Don't play games with me, do you understand?" He had grabbed her wrist tightly.

"Let go of me!" she cried, trying to shake him off.

"No!"

"Get _off_!"

"Stop moving!"

"I HATE YOU!" She finally got a good hit in; Erik flexed his jaw in pain. He tried to hold her down but she brought his hand to her mouth and bit down hard. He grunted and tried to grab her other wrist, but she dodged him and reached up- he forgot that she was a girl. He had forgotten how girls fought.

He swore when she got a handful of his hair and yanked. He tried to shake her off, but as soon as she found his weak spot, she wouldn't let go. She yanked again; her elbow accidently swung around and hit his right eye.

His mask clattered to the floor.

He tried to hunch down; in the position she was in, she couldn't see his face yet, she didn't even realize it had come off. She was practically in his lap, and her face was above his head. He jerked; she was trying to bite his _ear_.

"I hate you!" she cried, hitting the top of his head. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

"Christine!" he yelled, trying to push her back down. This was getting ridiculous.

"No!" she insisted. He was able to extricate his hands from her; he gently grabbed her waist. "Let go of me," she demanded weakly. "Let go of me..." He lowered her back into her seat slowly, and quickly covered his face with his hand. She didn't even notice. She cried against the seat.

Erik nervously glanced under his seat, but his mask wasn't there. Where had it fallen?

When he heard silence, he looked up warily. Christine was staring at him; she looked startled. His mask was in her hands.

He held out his hand slowly. "Please," he said weakly. "I'm sorry."

"I want to see." she breathed, holding his mask closer. "Show me."

"No." He replied. "No."

"Show me." She stopped crying. She crawled into his lap on wobbly limbs. "Please." Her blue eyes... he couldn't refuse her anything. Not even the thing he refused everyone.

He eased his hand down until it fell into his lap limply. He stared into her eyes as she saw him; all she did was tilt her head. "Can I have my mask back please?" he asked sadly.

She ignored him and reached up to touch him. "You're so ugly..." she whispered sympathetically. She found his hand and brought it to her back, under Alex's sweatshirt. He felt the cool smoothness of her skin and frowned in confusion. "I have a scar too," she said plaintively. "Feel?"

He did feel. He had never seen it before, but from what he could feel, it seemed to be very thin. Thin and long; it ran from the bottom of her hip to right below her shoulder. She smiled uncertainly and leaned forward to kiss his scarred cheek. "We can be ugly together." She whispered.


	23. Tension

"Christine!" Meg said in shock. She looked over her glasses at the girl who just walked into their dorm room. "You look... whoa."

"Do you like it?" Christine beamed, twirling in a circle. "I just got it today!"

"You bought an _entire_ outfit? A new one?" Meg's jaw dropped. "With what money?"

"Not just one outfit..." She held up about three or four more shopping bags. "Lots of outfits! What do you think?" She started pulling things outs, and she accidently stumbled in her brand new high heels. Meg stood up in alarm, but Christine quickly righted herself.

"Christine, are you wearing... high heels?" Meg asked in shock. She grabbed the leg of her surprisingly elegant wide leg jeans, and lifted it, revealing smart, brown lace up ankle boots. Meg's jaw dropped; she had seen the _exact_ same pair in Elle the week before. Not fair!

"Wow, Chris, you look so... different," Meg admitted. She took a step back and took her all in. "Hey, wow, did you get a manicure too?"

Christine haughtily extended her newly French manicured fingers. "Why yes, as a matter of fact, I did..." She drawled. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah, you look great!" Meg said enthusiastically. She had never in her life seen Christine look so... elegant. Grown up, even! Christine had always been of the... baby tees and skintight skinny jeans persuasion. The type that wore only frosted pink lip gloss and glittery pink panties.

Certainly not in the outfit she was wearing now. She had on wide leg, dark washed trousers Meg would _die _for (she got a little closer- they _were_ the same pair she saw in Express!), a simple mocha turtleneck, and the extremely high heels Meg already saw.

"How did you afford all of this?" Meg demanded, as Christine lovingly fondled a brand new yellow nightie. Meg's jaw dropped again- she was pulling it out of a La Perla bag!

"_Erik_ bought it for me," Christine sighed in dramatic boredom. "He took me shopping all day, and then we had a _lovely_ dinner-"

"_Erik_?" Meg repeated scathingly. "A _lovely_ dinner? Who the hell are you all of a sudden, Marie Antoinette? Who's Erik?"

"Professor Destler..." Christine sighed dreamily. She sat down on her bed and kicked off the uncomfortable high heels. "His name is Erik."

"He bought you all of this." It wasn't a question. Meg crossed her arms and suddenly started glaring at all of the shopping bags and brand new panties and sweaters and jeans and nighties. "Why?"

"Because he loves me." Christine giggled earnestly; Meg finally saw some of the normal Christine back. She didn't realize how much she had become used to the goofy, giggly, immature, childish Christine. She suddenly wasn't sure how much she liked this new, 'sophisticated' one.

Meg sat down next to her and pushed aside some jeans. "He loves you?" She asked warily. "He said that?"

"I like him so much, Meg," Christine confessed with wide eyes. She grabbed Baby and hugged her close. "He's so nice to me," she murmured. "No one's ever been so nice to me."

"Christine..." Meg sighed. "This isn't... he's a married man. He has children, he's so much older than you..."

"He buys me ice cream, and he kisses me all the time, and he gave me a bubble bath last night!" Christine continued to gush. She looked like a little girl with her first crush; Meg sadly realized that in some warped way, that's what she was. Even though she could probably rival Casanova himself with the amount of partners she had had... Christine was so _innocent_ sometimes.

"I love him," Christine breathed. She whispered it into Baby's head, like she was speaking to herself. Meg almost felt like she was intruding on her private thoughts. "No one's ever been so nice to me."

"Please be careful, Christine," Meg begged. "Don't fall for a man just because he's a little nice to you, Christine. He's _married_! What if his wife finds out about this? Do you think he'll leave her for you? And what about his job? You know he could be fired for sleeping with you?"

"He's so nice..." Christine sighed with a tiny giggle. She leaned back against her pillow and hugged Baby closer. "Meg?" She furrowed her brow in confusion.

"Yeah?" Meg replied earnestly.

"Raoul is so cute," She began. She sounded slightly upset, like she was confused. "And he's so strong and nice and I really like doing it with him a lot... and he has muscles, and no hair on his chest-"

"He's like a Backstreet Boy," Meg agreed. "Like a Barbie boy."

"And Professor is old, and his hair is a little gray, and he has a hairy chest, and he doesn't have the same muscles on his tummy that Raoul does... but when he kisses me, I feel like... I'm going to explode." Christine confessed. She looked over at Meg with wide eyes. "I don't know why."

Because you have a severe Elektra Complex. Because you are an emotionally stunted girl who doesn't even know the half of what happened when you came to live with us. Because your Professor reminds you of a father. Meg pursed her lips with some difficulty.

"I dunno, Christine..." she shrugged uncertainly. "Maybe he's just a really good kisser?"

"That too!" Christine beamed. "I want to go call him!" She sat up and started getting up to look for her phone, but she stopped suddenly. "But first I'm going to take off this itchy sweater!" She stripped down to her bra and panties, and then flounced back onto her bed. Meg rolled her eyes and went to sit back at her computer.

"You went _shopping_?" Becky asked with a raised eyebrow. "Why?"

Erik hunched his shoulder and quickly finished putting away his new Abercrombie and Fitch jeans and tees. He grabbed the bags and stalked to the garbage in the bathroom moodily. "Because," he said defensively. "I needed clothes. What's wrong with going shopping?"

Becky shrugged and continued folding laundry. "Nothing, nothing. It's just... not like you. You don't like shopping!"

"How do you know I don't like shopping?" Erik snapped. "Can I decide what I like and don't like?"

"Erik, what's wrong with you?" Becky asked in annoyance. She dumped the laundry basket on the floor and pushed passed him to put the clothes away in the dresser. He crossed his arms defensively.

"Nothing!" He said petulantly.

"Because quite frankly, you've been acting like an ass lately!" She burst out, slamming the drawers shut. "You _never_ see Zack, you're always at school, and you've been so... so _moody_ lately!" She narrowed her eyes at him and pointed. "Are we going to have to go through this again? Do you need to see a doctor?"

"No, Becky, I'm not depressed," he sighed impatiently. "I just have a lot of work to do, that's all!"

"Not enough to keep you from going _shopping_ all day!" She retorted, gesturing towards the still unpacked bags on the bed. "Since when do you wear jeans and tee shirts on a regular basis? I haven't seen you wear jeans so much since you were twenty five years old!"

"What's wrong with wearing jeans?" Erik bellowed. "Can you please stop nagging me, for one second? I try to do some laundry for you, I washed the sheets, I cleaned the bathroom, and all I'm getting from you is hell about picking up a few things at the mall."

They both stared each other down until Becky finally sighed and sat in the bed dejectedly. "Ok," she relented. "Maybe I was going a little overboard. I've just been so overwhelmed lately, at work, and with Zack..." She smiled at him wanly. "You know how busy we get around the holiday season. Everyone wants a cake."

Erik ignored the guilt he felt for making Becky feel guilty and sat down next to her. "I'm sorry I snapped at you," he said, taking her hand. "And I'm sorry I haven't been helping you enough with Zack."

She waved her hand. "Oh Erik," she sighed. "Don't worry about it, really. I'm fine. I just get scared sometimes that you won't have enough time for him now, while he's still little..." she trailed off and kissed his hand. "He needs his daddy. Just like Alex had hers."

"I miss Alex." He admitted. "I don't think I'll ever get used to Christmas without her."

"I know," Becky agreed. "It's still weird. But at least we still have Zack, Erik. And we're gonna have him well into our sixties..."

"Jesus Christ," Erik muttered, passing a hand through his hair. "Into _my_ seventies. I'm so old. I don't want to turn fifty."

"Your birthday is coming up, too," she reminded him with a grin. "Half a century, old man. The big five oh!"

"I still have time," Erik insisted, standing up from the bed. He straightened his back (it still ached) and started walking in the direction of Zack's room; he was watching Beauty and the Best again. "I still have time."

Just as she was about to grab some toilet paper and finish up, Meg paused. She glanced into the trashcan as she leaned over the toilet and swallowed nervously. _Oh no,_ she thought in a panic. _Oh no, please don't do this to us..._

"Christine!" she demanded after washing her hands. "Christine!" She pulled the bathroom door open, and sure enough, Christine was lounging on her bed, pretty as you please, not a trace of homework or any sort of work in site. She was chatting away happily on the phone, however.

"Christine, hang up the phone," Meg ordered in a would be calm voice. She tried to tell herself not to jump to conclusions. To just relax. But then she remembered what she saw in the garbage, and she felt herself flipping out again.

"Shhh!" Christine giggled, waving vaguely in Meg's direction. She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Will she let you?" She wondered, cupping the phone around her mouth.

Meg bit her tongue in annoyance. She didn't know who was letting who do what, but if it involved Christine, she had a feeling that if whatever it was was allowed, bad things would happen. Not that Christine's conversation was any of her business, of course.

"Hang up." Meg repeated in a low voice. She stared the younger girl down and crossed her arms. "I have to talk to you about something."

Christine blinked uneasily and finally sat up. "Professor?" she murmured into the phone, still staring at Meg. "I have to go now. I think Meg is mad at me." She paused, listening to the other line and then she shrugged. "I don't know..." She mumbled. "I don't think I did anything bad... ok. Me too. Bye bye." She hung up and smiled up at Meg uncertainly. "Professor's going to get me a bank account!" she said excitedly. "With a credit card and everything!"

"Oh, really? Is he?" Meg replied tightly. "I hope he can keep paying your medical bills, too."

Christine furrowed her brow. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Meg angrily held out her piece of evidence. "What happened, Christine?" she demanded, waving the empty packet of birth control pill in her face. "Why didn't you say you were done with these?"

Christine's eyed widened and she covered the O her mouth made with her hands. "Uh oh!" she said. "I forgot about them. They were all done a few weeks ago." She shrugged and smiled at Meg. "Don't worry, I feel fine," she assured her innocently. "I don't even think I need them anymore."

"... what. Do. You. Mean. You. Don't. Need. Them."

"Raoul said if you eat enough you don't even have to take vitamins. He said he used to take them too, but then he stopped and he feels better now." She brightened. "I feel better now too! I don't think I want to take vitamins again."

"These are not vitamins!" Meg screamed, throwing the packet in Christine's face. Christine squeaked and covered her face in fright.

"What do you _mean_, they're not vitamins?" Christine sniffled tremulously. "Why are you yelling at me? Mrs. Giry told me they were vitamins! I'm sorry!"

Meg took a deep breath in and started massaging her temples. "Have you gotten your period?" she asked in a low voice.

Christine blinked.

Meg felt bile rising up in her throat. She swallowed desperately, trying to swallow the anger and frustration and fed up-ness she felt everyday. She couldn't deal with this anymore. She couldn't. Her grades were falling, Sauna was mad at her, and her warped little charge was driving her to the brink. "I- I can't handle this any more," she said hoarsely. She grabbed the phone from Christine and dialed her mother.

Christine started to cry. "Meg," she sniffed. "Who are you calling? Are you mad at me? What did I do? I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll take the vitamins, I promise-"

"Christine, just- please," Meg held up her hand and closed her eyes. "Just be quiet." She walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

Christine tearfully found her cell phone under the blankets. She blinked furiously and dialed Erik's number with trembling fingers. _Answer_, she begged in her mind. _I need someone to be nice to me..._

"How's the wurst?" Becky asked conversationally. She fed Zack a piece and he smacked his gums thankfully.

Erik grunted and stayed bent over his place. "Good." He replied.

Becky nodded awkwardly and tapped the table. On the counter behind her, the clock ticked ominously. _Tick, tock, tick, tock._ "So, did you get a lot done today?" she asked. "I mean, when you weren't shopping, that is..."

"Becky, are you going to let the shopping thing drop?" Erik muttered. "Jesus Christ. I'll never go shopping again, is that what you want to hear?"

Becky's eyes widened in shock. "Erik, I was kidding!" she replied. "Would you calm down? I was just playing!"

"Well, it sure didn't seem like that!" Erik said irritably. He took another bit of the bratwurst and resented that it tasted delicious. Why did _every_thing she cooked taste so good? He craved the chicken he had shared with Christine earlier. She refused to eat anything but.

_"Look, Christine, escargot," he pointed out eagerly. "You know, that's a delicacy in France."_

_ She wrinkled her nose. "What's that?" she asked warily. "It sounds funny."_

_ "It's... um, well, it's an animal..." he waffled, trying to play with her hair and distract her. It usually worked._

_ She moved away and eyed him suspiciously. "I don't want to eat an animal." She declared. "I want chicken."_

_ "Chicken _is_ an animal, Christine," Erik pointed out. "You eat animals all the time."_

_ "Well, what _kind_ of an animal is it?" she asked, leaning on his shoulder. A passing old lady gave them a dirty look; Erik thought he heard her say something about robbing cradles._

_ "It's um... it's a snail." Erik admitted._

_ "WHAT?"_

"What crawled up your butt and died?" Becky hissed. "I thought we were over this whole shopping thing, Erik. Get over it!"

Erik silently continued to eat his spatzle. That tasted good too. He was going to get fat if he didn't watch himself. He was already soft around his middle; at least he didn't have a belly yet. Maybe he would go work out over the break... an image of Raoul crossed his mind, and Erik thought about the younger man jealously. He knew the football player had the body of a god; Christine had already compared them thoroughly. He took comfort in the fact that he still had more chest hair than Barbie.

"I think we should get separate bank accounts." He blurted suddenly.

Becky dropped her fork on the plate. "Excuse me?" she asked in shock. "Separate bank accounts? _Why_? For what?"

Erik shrugged and concentrated on his plate. "I dunno. I was talking to Dave the other day and he said that his banker told him it was a good idea, and Dave told me it was a good idea, so I think it's a good idea..." He trailed off and chanced a glance at his wife nervously. She was giving him the Death Stare.

_"Dave_ told you getting separate bank accounts was a good idea?" She asked icily.

"Um... yeah." Erik replied quietly.

"Did _Dave_ tell you about all of the girlfriends he has?" Becky continued. "Or did you guys not talk about that little detail? Because Melanie's told me he had quite a few. And it all started after they got _separate bank accounts_."

"Becky!" Erik cried, slamming his fork down. "Are you accusing me of having an affair?"

"I don't know!" She shot back. "Why else would you want separate bank accounts?"

"Because!" He spluttered. He paused, thought about his next words, winced, then decided to go for it. "Maybe _you're_ the one having an affair!"

"How _dare_ you!" Becky hissed, grabbing her plate and stomping to the counter. "How dare you even suggest that. I take my marriage vows seriously, Erik!" she yelled over her shoulders. "I can't _believe_ you would actually say that to me." She dumped her beer in the sink and threw down her apron. "You can clean up and put Zack to bed," she muttered, stalking out of the kitchen.

Erik angrily opened his mouth to shout a retort down the hall, but suddenly felt his phone ringing. _Bzzz, bzzzzz, bzzzz!_ He grabbed it out of his pocket and paled; _Incoming call: Christine._

"Hello?" he answered in a low voice, nervously checking the hallway to make sure Becky was really upstairs.

"Professor!" Christine whimpered, sniffling back tears. "Professor..."

"What's the matter?" He asked urgently. "Why are you crying, what's wrong?"

"Meg is mad at me!" she cried. "She's going to tell on me- she's calling her mommy and I'm going to get in trouble..." Sob, sob, sob. He heard her blowing her nose.

"W-wait, Christine, why are you going to get in trouble?" Erik demanded in alarm. "What is she going to tell her mother?"

"She's going to tell her I-"

"_Is that your professor on the phone?_" Erik heard Meg demanding in the background. He heard Christine cry a little more, and he could imagine her shaking her head terribly unconvincingly. _"Tell him... hang up... have to go... mom... angry... talk to you..."_ Forget about her mother; Meg sounded angry herself. Erik felt himself break out into a sweat.

"Christine!" He hissed desperately. "Don't hang up! What is she going to tell her? Don't tell her anything, do you hear me? Don't tell her-"

Beep.

The line went dead. Erik ran a hand through his hair and stood up abruptly. Zack's head jerked up in surprise, and he stopped playing with his spatzle to stare at his father. "Hi Daddy." he said with a smile.

"Hi, Zack," Erik replied distractedly. "Are you done with your food?"

Zack examined his leftover bratwurst and noodles, and shook his head decisively. "Don't think so." He said simply. Erik paused in his pacing and stared at his son. He would never get over how different his kids were. If Alex had witnessed the scene between Becky and Erik and heard her father speaking on the phone like he was, she would have been up in is face, demanding explanations. Even at two.

Zack was so... laid back. Apathetic, even. Nothing fazed him. Sometimes, Erik had half a mind to believe that his son was actually autistic, he could be so... _detached_ to his surroundings.

"Do you like the food, Zack?" Erik asked conversationally.

Zack tilted his head and continued to play with the food methodically. "Yep."

"Ok. Well, then, that's- that's good, Zack. Keep eating, alright, son?" Erik patted his head and anxiously stalked to the counter. He started putting dishes in the dishwasher. He washed his hands. He even slipped off his mask and washed his face with dish soap.

_Please don't tell anyone about us, Christine_, he thought desperately.

"Mrs. Giry?" Christine answered tentatively. She took a deep breath like Meg told her to, but suddenly burst into tears. "Mrs. Giry, are you mad at me?" she wailed.

"Christine!" Mrs. Giry snapped loudly. "Stop crying."

Her tone was so firm, Christine had no choice but to obey. She shut her mouth and bit her lip with wide eyes.

"Good girl. Ok, I want you to tell me when you ran out of your vitamins," Mrs. Giry said in a calm, even voice. She had perfected this voice; it was a necessity in her line of work.

"Um..." Christine twirled a piece of hair between her fingers and bit her lip some more. "I don't know..."

"This is _very_ important. When did you run out?"

"Two weeks ago?" Christine guessed uncertainly. "I didn't think it would matter if I forgot about them, because they were just vitamins, and hey!" She suddenly frowned in confusion. "Meg told me they weren't vitamins!"

"Just don't worry about what they are right now, ok, Christine?" Mrs. Giry said firmly. "All you need to know is that you need to take them. Two weeks, you said?"

"Maybe just one week..."

"I need you to remember, Christine!" Mrs. Giry insisted, raising her voice. "This is _extremely_ important!"

"One and a _half_ weeks," Christine decided. She still wasn't sure, but one and a half was right in the middle of one and two, and the middle always seemed like a good place to go for her. "It was one and a _half_ weeks."

"Are you sure?"

"_Positive_," Christine assured her. She scratched her head and played with Baby offhandedly.

"Ok, I need to ask you something else. Have you gotten your period since then?" Mrs. Giry asked, crossing her fingers.

"Um..." Christine blinked uncertainly and glanced up at Meg. Meg swallowed and shook her head. "I've never gotten my period," she answered simply. "Ever."

"Oh my goodness. So you haven't gotten it, and you wouldn't even know when to expect it if you were to get it?" Mrs. Giry clarified.

"... yeah." She started braiding her hair.

"Have you been intimate with anyone since then?" Mrs. Giry asked nervously. _Please, say no, say that you've taken a break from boys, that you're concentrating on schoolwork, that you've finally realized you're not just worth a roll in the hay!_

"Yep." Christine said. "Yep yep yep."

"... more than one?"

She opened her mouth to say yes, because usually she had sex with at least two people a week, but she suddenly shut her mouth. Come to think of it... the only person she had been with in the past week was Professor. Raoul was out of town.

"No," she replied faintly. "Just one."

"Who?" Mrs. Giry asked sharply.

Meg suddenly grabbed the phone back (she had been listening in) and held up her finger warning Christine to be quiet. "It doesn't matter, Ma," she said hastily. "But I know, she's only been with one person."

Mrs. Giry was immediately suspicious. If Meg was hiding something, that meant it had to be bad. But she didn't think Meg would allow Christine to be in a harmful situation... "I trust you, Megan," she said softly. "I won't ask."

"Thanks, Ma," Meg said in relief. "Here's Christine."

"Christine, I want you to go to a family planning clinic as soon as possible. You can ask the school nurse to show you where one is, but you'll have to go alone- Meg is leaving tomorrow. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Christine bit her pinkie nail nervously. "Um... I think so," she murmured. "I have to get vitamins?"

"Yes, they are _vitamins_!" Mrs. Giry said vehemently. "Actually- I want you to go to the nurse, and when you get there, call me, and let _me_ talk to her. Is that alright?"

Christine nodded dumbly. "Ok," she agreed uncertainly. Meg reached for the phone angrily, but patted Christine on the head, assuring her she wasn't angry at her.

"Ma?" Meg said in a low voice, walking to the bathroom. She locked the door behind her. "You can't keep this up."

"Megan, what are you talking about?" Mrs. Giry asked irritably. "I'm just trying to do what is in Christine's _best_ interest-"

"No!" Meg hissed, turning on the faucet to muffle her voice. "You're just trying to keep her in the dark! It's not right!"

"I _know_ what is best for her, Meg-"

"No!" Meg finally yelled. "You're just doing what's most convenient for you!" She sighed impatiently and ran her fingers through her hair. "How long are you going to keep her in the dark about _everything_, Mom? You can't just keep _lying_ to her!"

"Christine cannot handle the truth, Meg," Mrs. Giry said icily. "She's too delicate."

"Because you won't let her _grow up_!" Meg cried. "You keep her in this little bubble, telling her she's taking _vitamins_ instead of birth control, you tell her that her-"

"That's _enough_," Mrs. Giry hissed. "Everything, and I do mean everything, Meg, that I tell Christine is for the best. Do not take it upon yourself to tell her anything. Do you understand me?"

Meg set her jaw determinedly and crossed her arms. "Yes," she relented. "I have to go now, Ma. I'll call you tomorrow when I'm on my way, ok?"

"Ok, Meg. Goodnight, I love you."

Meg clicked off the phone resolutely. She didn't care what her mother said. Christine needed some answers- she _deserved_ the truth after everything, and Meg wasn't going to let her mom get in the way of Christine's possible... maturation? Healing? Peace?

She was going to tell Christine everything.


	24. Christmas

"It's Christmas Eve," Christine murmured breathily. "Santa's coming tonight."

"Santa might be locked out of your dorm room," Erik confessed, periodically glancing at the door behind him nervously. "But that doesn't mean Santa doesn't _want _to give you anything. Santa just might give it to you... a day later." He closed him eyes and shook his head; could he be any more lame?

"Did Santa tell you that?" She wondered.

"Um... yes."

"Oh," she frowned. "I wonder why he has to give me my presents late. I sent him my letter on time and everything."

Erik felt like crying, and then he felt like slapping himself. "Christine, did you really write a letter to... Santa Claus?" He asked gently.

She nodded on the other end of the phone. "Of course I did. And Meg showed me how to mail it to the North Pole too. Didn't you?"

"No, not this year," He replied softly. He cupped his face in his hands and exhaled loudly. "Are you alone, sweetheart?"

She nodded again, even though he couldn't see her. It didn't matter; he could picture her response perfectly in his mind. "Meg left and Raoul's gone and you're not here... it's kinda lonely," she whispered sadly. "It's just me and Baby."

"If I could come and see you, I would," Erik whispered desperately. He couldn't stand the thought of Christine locked up in her dorm room on Christmas Eve, looking forward to Christmas presents that weren't going to come the next day.

"Did you have dinner?" She asked in a falsely cheerful voice.

"Yes," He replied. "Becky made pea soup, pâté de foie gras, bread, and crème brûlée for dessert. French, for me."

"That's French food?" She asked. He could tell she was trying to sound happy, for him. She didn't want him to think she was sad. He would play along and talk about nothing too, if that was what she wanted.

"Yes, that's all French," He replied.

She giggled faintly. "Did she make _snails_?" She asked. "Like that restaurant?"

"No, she didn't make escargot, but do you know what a pâté is?" He teased. He heard a noise downstairs and he jumped. He held the phone away from his ear for a minute, but breathed a sigh of relief; it was just Zack running around.

"What?" she giggled eagerly. "Worms?"

"No, it's not _worms_," He laughed. "It's a paste, like a spread for crackers or bread."

"Paste..." she replied cautiously. "Like tooth paste?" She wrinkled her nose in confusion. "What's it made out of?"

"It can be made out of lots of things," Erik said breezily. "Becky made it from foie gras."

"Fwah grah?" Christine repeated. "What's _that_?"

"Fattened duck liver."

"EW!"

Erik laughed. She was so predictable, for all of her unpredictability. She was such a _teenager_, so classic and stereotypical, from the music she listened to to the reactions she had when faced with the idea that people could eat snails. "What, what's wrong with that?"

"DUCK?" She squealed. "Liver? That's gross!"

"You eat chicken," He pointed out. "You eat beef. It's that same thing."

"No, duck and snails are _gross_. Chicken and beef are _normal_." She replied. He got the impression that she was through discussing it, lest he change her mind or make her doubt her next Happy Meal.

"Oh, ok," He relented with a peaceful sigh. "If you say so." The next few minutes were silent- but it was a content silence, not an awkward one. He wondered how he had come to this point- it seemed so surreal when he thought about it, if anyone had told him a year earlier that he would soon be cheating on his wife with an underage student, a girl who still believed in Santa Claus- it went without saying that he wouldn't have believed them.

"Professor?" She murmured after a moment. She stared out the window, at the snow covered quad and squinted up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of Santa. She didn't see anything.

"Yes, my darling?"

"What's going to happen to me?" She asked softly. She grabbed Baby and moved over to sit on Meg's bed; she had the window view, and the familiar smell of her friend was comforting. She wished she could've gone with her; she wondered if Mrs. Giry didn't want her around.

Erik tilted his head and bit his knuckles. He stayed silent and blinked furiously, trying to... understand what she meant, give her an answer? He didn't even know what she was asking. "What do you mean, Christine?" He finally asked.

"What's going to happen to me?" She repeated plaintively. "After school. When I grow up? I don't even know what I want to be when I grow up."

_'Ah, leave me alone in my pubescent park, in my mossy garden... never grow up.'_

"I don't know what's going to happen, angel," He answered honestly. "I don't know."

"Good morning, beautiful," Erik grinned into the phone. "Wake up, it's Christmas."

Christine grunted and rolled over; she had slept in Meg's bed that night. She caught sight of the alarm clock and frowned in annoyance. "It's five o clock in the morning!" she whined sleepily. "Go back to bed, it's still nighttime." She held the phone away and prepared to click end, but stopped when he called her name loudly.

"Christine!" he hissed. "Wake up, I need you to open the door for me, okay? I'm coming to your dorm room now."

She sat up and smiled suddenly. "You're coming to visit me?" She asked happily. "Did you bring me a present?"

He laughed and locked his car. He glanced around the parking lot and scratched his head; it was almost completely empty. Good. Less people around to see him in the dorms, the better. He opened his trunk and pulled out the garbage bag, throwing another furtive look around the parking lot.

"Perhaps..." he replied. "Come downstairs, and make sure no one sees you!"

"Ok!" she giggled happily. She clicked the phone off, rolled out of bed, and skipped to the door. When she opened it, she stumbled across... presents? Her face lit up and she got down on the floor to inspect them.

_To Christine... from Santa._

Her eyes widened and she cast a suspicious glance down the hallway. "Santa..." she whispered in awe, cradling the presents and bringing them back into her room. "Santa was here!" She left them (three boxes of varying size) on the desk she and Meg shared, next to a list Meg had left behind. She didn't even realize Santa's handwriting suspiciously resembled her friend's...

"Professor!" She squealed happily, opening the door downstairs for him. "You're here!"

"It t-took you long enough!" He accused with chattering teeth. "It's freezing out here! And look at you! Put some clothes on, Christine, you're practically naked!"

"You like me naked," she giggled, stepping into the elevator with him. "And I can warm you up when we get to my room!" She embraced him tightly, and then looked up at him excitedly. "Guess what!" The elevator dinged, and they stepped out.

"What?" He wondered, taking her hand in his.

"Santa came to my room last night!" She said in a stage whisper. She skipped ahead to her room and stepped in; Erik followed warily.

"Santa?" He asked suspiciously. "... What do you mean Santa came to your room?" The last thing he wanted to worry about was Christine bedding bearded fat men in exchange for Christmas presents.

"Well, he didn't come inside," she explained. "He just dropped these outside of my room!" She held up her presents and beamed. "Isn't that cool?"

"How extraordinary," Erik mused. He removed his gloves and gently set his coat on the desk chair; when he got closer, he caught sight of the list written in Meg's handwriting and the labels on Christine's gifts. He smiled bemusedly. "Santa obviously cares about you very much."

"What did you get me?" She finally asked, pouncing on him from behind. She couldn't hold it in any longer, she was practically bursting from excitement.

Erik laughed and hoisted her up on his back properly. "What did I get you?" He teased. "Why would I get you anything? Were you expecting something?"

"You did bring me something!" She accused, tickling his sides. "You brought a bag with you!"

"I did." He admitted. "Come on now, untangle yourself and I shall present the presents to you." He dropped her onto her bed and she clapped in excitement. He brought the bag over to them and took a seat next to her.

"Wait," she insisted, climbing into his lap and fumbling for his belt. "You have to take your clothes off first!"

"How about I just remove some items, mmm?" He bargained, slipping off his loafers and pulling off his belt. He untucked his shirt and then reached into the bag and pulled out the first box. It was thin and rectangular; she snatched it away from him and unwrapped it with wide eyes.

"Beauty and the Beast!" she squealed in excitement. She turned the box over and widened her eyes. "Ooh, the two-disc platinum edition! Now I can watch it on our TV!"

Erik laughed and reclined against the wall as she busily turned on her tiny little television box and put the movie in. He felt bad for Meg, but he figured after this long with Christine she knew how to fend for herself.

"Do you like it?" He asked when she came back to the bed. She kissed him happily and nodded. He patted her behind and nodded encouragingly. "Open the others."

She reached into the bag and pulled out the last two boxes. One was large, and the other was very small. She examined them both and scratched her head; Erik suppressed his laughter. He could tell she was dying to open the big one.

"Open the big one." He said.

"Ok!" She eagerly ripped the paper off, and she kept ripping, until she saw what it was. She gasped and held the box in her hands reverently. One of them was trembling. She turned to Erik and blinked, like she was asking if it was real.

"It's real," He assured her with a smile. "All yours."

"It's the Limited Edition Lighter Than Air Barbie!" She breathed. "From the Prima Ballerina Collection! They don't make her anymore!"

"I know," He smiled. "She's made out of porcelain. Do you like her?"

"I love her," Christine whispered. She turned the box over in her hands and examined every minute detail; she even looked at the bottom of the box. "She's beautiful."

"She looks like you," He commented, brushing a curly strand of hair from her face. "A little bit."

"I used to be a ballerina," She announced. "With Meg."

"You told me," He nodded. "That's why I got her for you."

"Thank you, Professor," she murmured, crawling towards him. She kissed him reverently, the way she had looked at the Barbie doll, and slipped the straps of her white eyelet nightgown off her shoulders. She took his hand and deftly led it to her breast, bringing his thumb to her nipple. She smiled against his lips.

"Wait, wait," He murmured, covering her back up again. "Open the last one."

She giggled and obeyed, opening the last one with more gentleness than she had shown the last two. It was so thin; thin and long, like a rectangle. She tossed the wrapping paper on the floor and gently opened the light blue box she uncovered.

"Ooooh..." Her eyes widened again. She pulled the bracelet out of its box and stared in awe. It twinkled when the light hit it. "It's so pretty!"

"Do you like it?" Erik asked with a big smile. "Pearl is your birthstone."

She tilted her head and blinked at the twinkling bracelet with awe. "I love it," she whispered. "It's so pretty... put it on me!" She demanded in a hushed voice. She held out her tiny wrist, and Erik obliged, thankful he chose a child's size when he bought it.

It was made of white gold teddy bears, linked together with tiny pink pearls in their bellies. He had remembered Baby, and, well... he couldn't resist buying it for her. It was expensive- not enough to break his bank, but certainly more than was wise to spend.

"Teddy bears," she murmured, fingering the delicate bracelet on her equally delicate wrist. "Just like Baby!"

He took her wrist, and kissed the bracelet gently. "For my Baby," he murmured, kissing his way up her arm. She giggled when he reached the juncture of her elbow. "Do you like your presents?" He asked.

She nodded happily and kissed his nose. "Come here," She pouted. "Now you have to kiss me a lot."

"I have to leave at six," He murmured, glancing up at the clock. It was five thirty.

She moaned and wrinkled her nose. "Just kiss me," she whispered. "I don't want you to go."

He braced his arms on either side of her and gently lowered himself. "I love you, Christine," he whispered into her neck. "I love you so much, sweetheart." He pulled off his sweater and the straps of her dainty little nightgown. Her nipples were hard and puckered.

"Are you cold?" He smiled when she shivered unconsciously.

She nodded and pulled him back down to her. "Come back, you're warm," She pouted. Her left hand slipped down his backside and snuck into his back pocket; she paused and dug deeper. "What's this?" she whispered with a curious smile. She felt something velvety covering something hard.

"Oh!" Erik blushed and followed her hand to pull out a small velvety pouch. "It's your last gift, I forgot about it."

Her face lit up. "Another present for me?" She asked happily. "What is it?"

He held it back and blushed deeper. "Your other presents were your official, appropriate for Christmas presents. I couldn't resist..." He handed it to her and scratched his head sheepishly. "This is your inappropriate, unofficial present. I don't want you to think this is all I'm after."

She took it eagerly, and pulled out a small pink... bullet? The words Doc Johnson were written on the side in small black font. She wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brow. "What is it?" She asked in disappointment. It certainly didn't look very entertaining, whatever it was.

"Close your eyes," he murmured, taking it from her and pushing her back down gently. She frowned warily, but he reassured her with a kiss on the forehead, and she acquiesced. "Keep them closed!" He found the control on the bottom of the bullet, settled on top of her comfortably, eased his hand beneath her nightgown and between her legs...

"PROFESSOR!" She shrieked, clamping her legs shut. He jumped when she yelled, but quickly regained his composure and eased her legs open again. She whimpered and started trembling when she felt his hand press the bullet against her. When he turned it back on, she squealed again.

"Like it?" He asked, using his other hand to spread her apart gently. She mouthed wordlessly and clutched the sheets on either side of her. Her hips started rolling of their own accord. "I'll take that as a yes..."

"Merry Christmas, Meg," Mrs. Giry told her daughter with a kiss on the cheek. "And good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

Meg grunted and shuffled to the table. Her grandfather ignored her and continued trying to open a box on the table- Meg took a closer look and blinked in surprise. It was a brand new iPhone. She turned to her mother in indignation, and Mrs. Giry merely shrugged.

"Wasn't on your list," she said simply, turning back to the coffee pot.

"Yeah! Wasn't on my list because I definitely thought any Apple product was out of everyone I know's price range for Christmas gifts this year!" She hissed jealously. "Why does _Grandpa_ get one? He's old!"

"Because Grandpa put it on his list, that's why. You haven't even opened your presents yet Meg, now hush and stop complaining." Mrs. Giry replied disdainfully. She tapped the tip of Meg's nose playfully and poured them both a cup of coffee.

"Aha!" Grandpa shouted triumphantly. "I got the damned box open. I can't wait to show- Ethel!" He yanked the iPhone out of the box and suddenly sprung up from the table and bounded down the hall. "Ethel! Check out my new iPhone!"

Meg shook her head in drank her coffee. It wasn't strong enough. Coffee was never strong enough for her. She sometimes believed that she was the only sane person alive in the world. She knew it sounded pretentious, and that was why she never said it aloud, but sometimes, she really truly believed it.

"I have to call Christine," she remarked to her mother. "I feel so bad for her- she's probably so lonely, all by herself on Christmas."

Mrs. Giry pursed her lips and said nothing. Meg tilted her head and stared at the iPhone box on the table- and then she caught sight of the brand new knife set her mom had told her about... and the new gold earrings she had given Meg...

"Are you sure you couldn't afford a ticket for Christine?" She suddenly asked. She turned to her mother and frowned suspiciously. "You don't seem that hard up."

Mrs. Giry said nothing and kept her lips pursed tightly. She poured Meg some more coffee and started washing dishes.

"You _could_ have afforded another ticket for Christine!" Meg accused. "But you didn't. Why not? She's _alone_, Mom, why would you do that to her?"

Mrs. Giry sighed and turned off the faucet. "Lower your voice!" she said in a hushed voice. "I didn't send Christine a ticket here on purpose," she admitted. "I- I thought it was the best, that she stay at school and we have a family Christmas this year."

"What about last year? And the year before that?" Meg pressed. "Christine was with us then."

"Yes, well, your Grandparents didn't come those past winters. I didn't think it was wise to have... so many people in the house." Mrs. Giry waffled, searching for more coffee to feed Meg.

Meg snatched away her mug indignantly. "You're ashamed of her?" She snapped. "You don't want Grandma and Grandpa to meet her, that's it, isn't it? It's not like she's the Boogeyman, Mom, she's a harmless, misled- s-sex addict, yeah-" She spluttered and shook her head. "But that doesn't mean she doesn't deserve a Christmas with _some_ sort of family, even if hers is-"

Mrs. Giry held up her hand. "Megan!" She hissed. "That's enough. You're right, I didn't want Grandma and Grandpa to meet her. Is that so wrong? I wanted a quiet holiday with my parents, and I didn't want to have to worry about-" She waved her hands and shook her head in frustration. "I don't know, Christine seducing Grandpa or something!"

"Christine is not an alien, Mom," Meg said angrily. "She's a human being, and it was your decision to- to _keep_ her, or whatever we did. You can't just abandon her after that."

"I know that Meg, but to my parents, I am retired, and for one week, I would like to live up to that expectation, and not include work in my personal life."

"Well I guess I didn't know Christine was still _work_ to you!" Meg snapped, grabbing her coffee mug and storming upstairs.

Mrs. Giry sighed and braced her hands on the counter in front of her. She did care about Christine! The girl was like... almost like a daughter to her, she had certainly been through quite a lot with her. She remembered the first day she met Christine; the little girl had smiled and reached into her pocket without asking.

_"What are you doing, little Miss?" Mrs. Giry asked, squatting down to the child's level. "Why did you go in my pocket?"_

_Christine frowned and began searching inside of her purse when she couldn't find what she was looking for in her pocket. "I'm lookin' for candy!" She explained, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her voice was tiny and crystalline; it fit the slightly underfed look she had about her. "Do you have candy for me?"_

_Mrs. Giry frowned and tilted her head. "What's your name?"_

_"Christine," she replied with big blue eyes. They were beautiful. "K-r-i-t...?" She trailed off and popped her thumb in her mouth with a troubled look. "I forgot how to spell it. You have candy for me?" She persisted with a toothy smile._

_"Christine, you should never speak to strangers, dear," Mrs. Giry said with a solemn face. "And you should never, ever take candy from strangers, let alone ask them for some!"_

_Christine was silent for a moment, and she looked down at the floor with her thumb still in her mouth. She rocked back and forth on her tiny feet, and Mrs. Giry thought she had learned her lesson, when she peeked back up from under her mane of brown curls and smiled again. "So... can I have some candy?"_

Mrs. Giry did end up giving her candy in the end, after a stern lecture and a talk with her teachers. They had all agreed that Mrs. Giry was the best person to handle the 'Christine Situation'... Years later, Mrs. Giry could not remember a single case in her history as a social worker that had affected her and touched her the way Christine Daae had.

Meg would probably say the same thing, if she could read her mother's mind. For the most part, growing up as the daughter of a social worker gave her no special privileges or handicaps- it didn't affect her at all, except that she was perhaps a little more informed about Good Touches and Bad Touches than her classmates.

When she first met Christine, she didn't like her. She didn't like her sparkling big blue eyes, or her luscious brown curls that seemed too voluminous and sexy for her miniature body. She thought her voice was too high pitched and delicate, and her face too round and symmetrical.

Meg had straight blonde hair that would never hold a curl, and plain brown eyes. She was skinny too, but it was from hours and hours of dance practices; her body was lined with quiet muscles that flexed when she moved. Christine's limbs looked like they would snap if someone blew on her.

_"Hi," Christine beamed. "I'm Christine. K-i-r-s..." She bit her lip and frowned. "I forgot how to spell it. Do you have any candy?"_

_Meg eyed the newcomer warily. She was a good head shorter than her, and probably about two years younger. She was holding her hand out expectantly. Meg wordlessly shook her head._

_"Oh." Christine's face fell. "Ok. Are you my new friend?"_

_Meg squinted at the odd little girl and turned around to look at her mother, who nodded encouragingly. Meg turned back to Christine and nodded very slowly._

_"I love you!" Christine exclaimed, suddenly wrapping the older girl in bear hug. She stood on her tiptoes and pressed a big kiss to Meg's lips; she would later wonder if that was her lesbian awakening. Somehow, she doubted it; something about Christine just didn't do it for her..._

Meg grabbed her phone from her night stand and found Christine's number in her speed dial. Before she pressed send, she toyed with the idea of telling her everything she didn't know... finally letting Christine decide what she wanted for herself, perhaps.

She sighed and reclined on her old bed. Somehow, she didn't think that telling Christine the truth about- so many things on Christmas morning was suddenly going to be her catalyst for creating a whole new, independent Christine. It would probably just make her cry.

"I can't do that to her, not today," she muttered to herself, pressing send. "I'll just... tell her Merry Christmas, ask her if she got Santa's gifts, and wish her well. That's it." She glanced at her clock and bit her lip; it was six in the morning, but it was also Christmas... she was probably already up.

"Meg?" Christine panted into the phone.

"Christine?" Meg frowned and put a hand on her hip. "What's the matter, you sound out of breath."

She giggled, and Meg heard breathing in the background. "Professor Destler came here to give me presents," she said shyly. "We were playing. Merry Christmas!"

Meg rolled her eyes. As much as she disliked the idea of sleeping with a professor... at least Christine wasn't alone on Christmas. "Merry Christmas to you too! Tell your professor he owes me a Christmas gift, ok?"

"Meg says you have to buy her a present," Christine whispered to Erik. He laughed quietly and buried his unmasked face in Christine's deliciously warmed up A-cups. He kissed a nipple and whispered into her ear. "Professor said that he wishes you a a very Merry Christmas, Ms. Giry, and he once again thanks you for your depression." He poked her side and laughed a little louder. "Oops, I mean _discretion_."

"Well, tell him he's very welcome and I'll be expecting the usual hush money in my bank account on Monday," Meg deadpanned.

"Hey!" Christine frowned and turned to Erik in indignation. "You gave her money?"

Erik kissed her temple and shook his head. "She's joking, sweetheart," He murmured. "She's making fun of me, just ignore her."

"Professor said to ignore you," Christine informed Meg.

"I heard." Meg rolled her eyes again, but this time, she couldn't help but smile a little. They were kind of cute together, from what she heard. Not that she approved! But she didn't hate his guts anymore. "Did you get your Christmas presents from Santa?"

Christine gasped. "Omigod, Meg, guess what, I got Christmas presents from _Santa_!"

Meg gasped in false shock. "Oh, my, God, really?" She replied. "Did you like them?"

"I didn't open them yet. I'm saving them for later."

"I see. Well, I hope you enjoy them, Christine. Merry Christmas again, be good, and please try not to get in trouble, ok?" Meg bit her lip and wondered why she was always a wet mother hen around her little friend.

"Ok Meg! Merry Christmas!" Christine smiled. "I love you."

Meg felt a tear burn the corner of her eye. "I love you too, babe."

"Meg is a very good friend to you," Erik observed, sitting up. She snuggled next to him and nodded. "It's time that I was on my way now, darling," he said sadly, searching for his clothes.

Christine pouted and hugged him closer. "I don't want you to leave," she said pathetically. "I want you to stay!"

"You know I would if I could," he said regretfully, putting on his pants. He found his sweater and pulled it on as well. "I have to go spend time with my family now, Christine. I told Becky I was buying eggnog."

"Oh." Christine mumbled sadly. She pulled Baby to her chest and played with the bows on her ears. "Are you going to kiss her today?"

Somehow, Erik knew she meant more than a kiss when she said kiss. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I- I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know if Becky will want..."

"Don't do it," Christine whispered into Baby's fur. She sniffled and clutched the bear tighter. "Please?"

"Ok," He agreed in a whisper, squatting down to her level. "I promise. Now I have to go, ok?"

"Wait." She whispered. "I have a present for you." She reached below her bed and pulled out a haphazardly wrapped square box. It even had a gaudy red bow on the top.

"Oh, Christine, you didn't have to," Erik began, taking the box from her. He unwrapped it gently, to find a medium sized white box inside. He opened it, and his heart felt like it was exploding into a thousand tiny little pieces. It was a bow-tie dotted with smiling little snails. "Christine-"

She peeked up at him and smiled. "Escargot."


	25. Babysitting

It wasn't until evening the next day that Erik noticed his wedding band was mysteriously absent from his finger. He frantically searched through his pockets, his car, his school bag- he even checked the box with the bow tie that was hidden in his glove box, but it was nowhere to be found.

He stopped to do an inventory. Had he been wearing it Christmas morning when he went to visit Christine? Yes, he believed so. He never really took it off. Perhaps he had lost it at the supermarket when he was buying eggnog? He wasn't sure how... he didn't think so.

He must've left it in Christine's dorm room. That was the only thing he could think of- he doubted it was stolen. It was just a simple gold band whose sole purpose was to scream to the wearer and any scheming trollops- I'M MARRIED.

His primary concern was Becky. How was he going to hide his missing wedding band from his wife? She never took hers off. Ever.

His problem was... not exactly solved, more like worsened when Becky noticed something else the very same evening.

"What's this?" She demanded with raised eyebrows. She was holding up a small tube in one hand and a pair of his pants in the other.

Erik swallowed and tried to look innocent as he took a step closer to see what she was holding up. "W-what is it?" He asked with a dry mouth. It just looked like a tube to him.

"It's _lip-gloss_, Erik," She hissed dangerously. "In your pocket. Why do you have _lip-gloss_ in your pocket? It's not mine."

H.O.L.Y. S.H.I.T.

"Um, I don't know." He said simply. He shrugged and tried to look bemused. "Maybe a mysterious lady admirer slipped it in my pants without me noticing. Ha-ha!"

"It's not funny, Erik." Becky said quietly. She was giving him the Death Stare. "How did this get into your pocket?"

"Becky, I work with girls and women all day long!" He said with a sigh of exasperation and an eye roll. "I'm a college professor! I don't know, someone probably left it in my classroom and I picked it up or something. I don't even remember the last time I wore those pants."

That was a lie. He wore them the day he picked up Christine from the hospital. That devil. Slipped her lip-gloss into his pocket without him even noticing.

Becky squinted at him for another moment, and then nodded slowly. "Alright," she sighed, chucking the gloss into a garbage can. "I believe you. Don't go picking up lip-gloss and stuff from the floor, Erik!" She shuddered and finished checking his pockets. "Germs. I'm going to go wash some clothes- do you have anything else?" She asked, gesturing to the pants.

"Ah... no. Thank you, Becky."

Erik was going to strangle the little demon named Christine. Now with this lip-gloss drama in his mind and in the sweat on his temples, he was starting to question if he had really just 'left' his ring in her dorm.

He double-checked to make sure Becky was safely downstairs, washing clothes and Zack was still in his bed, tucked in for an evening nap, and then grabbed his phone and barricaded himself in his office.

_Dialing... Christine._

Dialing the Devil was more like it, Erik thought furiously. He couldn't believe her! That scheming little... witch would bat her eyelashes and kiss his nose, and scheme to ruin his marriage in the same breath.

"Professor!" She exclaimed happily. "Hi!"

Oh, how Erik suddenly wanted to see her. He hated it- he hated how he loved her so much that even though he suspected her of something that should make him hate her, he still... loved her.

No excuse! He set his face into a frown and tried to stay angry. "Christine, I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be completely honest with me, do you understand?" He said sternly.

"... Am I in trouble?"

"Did you purposely leave your lip-gloss in my pocket the night you slept here?" He demanded.

She swallowed and started biting her pinkie nail. "I don't remember..." she mumbled.

"Did you take my wedding ring?" He hissed angrily, clutching his cell phone tightly.

"It's _mine_!" She cried, grabbing the ring she had threaded on a chain and put around her neck. "It's my ring!"

"That is not your ring, Christine!" He yelled. His eyes widened and he shut his mouth, nervously listening at the door. He didn't hear anything. He lowered his voice. "Why did you take my wedding ring, Christine?"

"It's _mine_," she insisted desperately. "I want it, it's mine! Mine mine mine mine!"

"Christine, you are going to give me back that ring, or else-"

"I have to go now!" she cried. "I don't want to talk to you anymore! Goodbye!"

Click.

"Damn!" Erik swore, snapping his phone shut. He dropped his face into his hands and massaged his temples. What was he going to do? He wasn't even going to pretend that he knew what had brought on this mini-crisis of Christine's, or that he knew how to handle it. All he knew was that he needed to get that ring back.

He walked to his bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. After a moment he found what he was looking for, applied it, and bravely made his way downstairs.

"Oh, honey, what happened to your hand?" Becky asked in concern, dropping the sock she was folding and rising to her feet. "What did you do?"

Erik grimaced and gingerly held up his left hand. "I slammed my finger into my desk drawer," he sighed. "I think it might be broken."

"Broken!" Becky's eyes widened and she gently took his hand in hers. "Do you need to go to the doctor's?"

"No!" He blurted, pulling his hand back. "No, I- I wrapped this Ace bandage around, like a splint. I think I'll be ok."

Becky examined the cloth that covered his entire finger and frowned skeptically. "If you say so... are you sure you don't want a doctor to check up on you?"

"I'm fine, really, Becky," he smiled. "It's just me being stupid."

She rolled her eyes and sat back down with the basket of laundry she was folding. "Well, will you be alright for that party at Dave and Melanie's this week?" She asked.

He tilted his head. "Oh yeah, I forgot about that," He mused. "Yes, I think I'll be able to pull off a recovery," he said dryly.

"Good. I was going to call that student of yours, the little girl- what's her name?" Becky scrunched up her nose.

Erik's blood went cold. "Christine?" He croaked.

"That's it!" Becky slapped her knee. "Christine. She was such a sweetheart, I'm going to ask her to watch Zack, what do you think?"

"No." He said immediately. "I don't think so."

"Erik, why not?" Becky frowned. "We're only going to be gone for a couple of hours, and it's nighttime anyway, Zack'll be asleep most of the time..."

"I- I don't want my students watching my son!" He stammered. "What happened to Jamie?"

"Peace Corps."

"Your mother?"

"Out of town."

"Alex?" Erik pressed weakly. "She could fly in, couldn't she..?"

Becky shook her head and made a noise of disgust. "No, Erik! What's the big deal? I'm calling her. She was sweet, clean cut, and she'll probably be cheap. Do you know if she babysits?"

"No."

"Well, Zack's easy," Becky mused. "He just watches his movies and goes to sleep. And hey, we might even get a super cheap rate because we let her sleep here that one time!" She teased. "She owes us one."

"Becky, I do not want Christine babysitting Zack!" Erik hissed. "No, no, no! I won't allow it!"

"He's my son too, Erik!" Becky snapped. "And unless you have a better idea, I'm calling her."

"You don't have her number." Erik pointed out smugly.

"You're going to give it to me." Becky replied.

"What makes you think I have it?" Erik cried defensively. "I don't have her number. Why would I have her number? She's my student! I definitely don't have her number."

"Your roster, Mr. I Don't Have Her Number," Becky rolled her eyes. "Just check your roster..."

Erik shook his head stubbornly and stood up abruptly. "No, Becky. If worst comes to worst, we'll just have to skip the party. No- I'll stay home with Zack, you can go to the party."

Becky rolled her eyes and said nothing. Sometimes the best thing to do with men was just to stay silent.

Christine was determined to show everyone that she was capable of taking care of herself. She was tired of being treated like a baby all of the time- not that she didn't like being treated like a baby, because she did. Just not all of the time.

She pulled on her leggings with staunch determination. She shrugged into the heavy wool pea coat Erik had bought her with her mouth set into a firm line, and finally yanked on her pink rubber boots with the resolve of an Olympian athlete.

She was ready.

"I'm looking for vitamins." She declared to the Rent-A-Cop outside of her dorm building. He was only there during the day, while the regular security guards were away for the Christmas break.

"Ok," The cop shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Cool."

"Can you help me find vitamins?" Christine persisted, pulling her matching knit cap snuggly over her twin braids. "I have to find vitamins."

"Well, Rite-Aid's right down the street," The cop offered. He eyed Christine's outfit and laughed. "But you're gonna be cold. It's below thirty today, sweetheart."

Christine crossed her arms petulantly and tried not to be discouraged. She hadn't even made it off campus, and her adventure was already being thwarted. "Will you take me?" She asked the cop innocently.

"Can't." He said, blowing smoke in the opposite direction. "Gotta stay here and man the fort."

Christine stepped closer and batted her eyelashes. "I'll give you a kiss..." She giggled sweetly. "Besides, there's nobody inside, it's only me. I promise." She batted her eyes again.

The cop took a step back and eyed Christine again, slower this time. She flirtatiously twirled a braid and 'accidentally' let a few buttons of her coat come unbuttoned.

"How old are you?" The cop asked sharply.

She took two steps closer this time and bit her lip with all of the sweetness of a Snickers bar. "How old do you want me to be?"

Twenty minutes later, Christine was happily strolling through the aisles of Rite-Aid. She turned to her new escort and beamed. "Thank you for staying with me!" She said enthusiastically. "You can help me find the right vitamins!"

The cops grunted and crossed his arms. "Just hurry up. I have to get back to my post."

They reached the vitamin aisle and Christine slowed to a halt. She had no idea there were so many different... flavors, types, sizes of vitamins. She didn't know where to start.

"Hello there!" A cheery voice greeted them. Christine turned around to find a chubby blonde lady leaning on the make up display behind them. "Can I help you folks?"

Christine smiled sweetly and nodded. Her resolution was back. "Yes please," She said in a determined voice that sounded like she had rehearsed her speech beforehand. "I'm looking for vitamins, please."

The lady laughed and gestured in front of them. "Well, you're in the right place! What kind of vitamins, darlin'?"

Christine faltered, and the cop beside her checked his watch impatiently. "Um... I don't know..." She thought about calling Mrs. Giry or Meg; they would know for sure. Mrs. Giry told her to call her when she was getting the vitamins...

No! Christine wanted to show them all that she was a big girl and she could take care of herself. She would buy the vitamins by herself, on her own, and when Meg came back from her vacation she would show her, and everyone would be happy with her. Maybe even Professor would be proud of her; she bet Alex did things for herself all the time.

"I want those!" Christine suddenly declared, fingering the gold ring on a chain around her neck with a troubled expression on her face. She pointed to the bottom row of vitamins, the children's row, and grabbed a bottle of gummy bear vitamins.

The lady tilted her head and made a face. "Well, those are for children, sweetie," She said. "But heck, look at ya! You probably don't even need adult vitamins yet, you're so skinny! You oughtta fatten up a little, it's Christmas, you know?" She winked and subtly pointed to the food section.

Christine's eyes lit up, and she needed no further encouragement. The cop rolled his eyes and checked his watch again. "You know, I've gotta go and get back to my post!" He complained. "That thing you did didn't cover me waiting all this time."

She grabbed three big bags of chips and a bottle of soda. "I'll do it again," She promised with big eyes, shoving the bags in his hands. "And I'll buy you a soda!" Her eyes sparkled. This was the first time she would use the new credit card Professor had given her- she was excited beyond belief.

The cop shrugged. "Alright," he relented. "If you're gonna put it that way..."

By the time Christine was ready to leave, she had two jumbo bottles of gummy bear vitamins, enough junk food and soda for a frat party, and roughly five or six magazines. And a soda for her new friend.

"This is my credit card," She announced when the cashier rang her up. "I'm paying with my _credit card_."

The cashier grunted and swiped. "Sign here, please," She said in a bored voice, pushing the receipt across the counter.

Christine's eyes lit up, and she daintily took the offered pen. She took extra care to make sure her signature was as neat and pretty as possible.

_Christine Daae._

Thank goodness she had finally learned how to spell it.

"You sure know how to go shopping," The cop commented as they walked outside. "You went in there for vitamins and you came out with an arsenal. I feel bad for your daddy."

Christine stopped walking and blinked uncertainly. "My daddy's dead," She breathed. "He left me."

"Oh." The cop lit another cigarette and opened the car doors. "Sorry. How'd you pay for all of that then? You don't strike me as the type who pays for stuff on her own."

"I have a credit card!" Her face lit up again, and she waved her new Visa in the air excitedly. "See?"

"I see. Get in the car, I gotta go protect that damn building."

Christine rolled her eyes and buckled her seatbelt. "It's not like you're guarding the President or anything," She said. "It's just an empty dorm building. Nobody _wants_ to be at school."

"Why're you still here then? Why didn't you go home?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I don't have a home. I live here."

The cop grunted and kept driving. When they reached the school again, he slowed to a stop a few feet away from the entrance and turned to Christine expectantly.

"Ok, thank you for taking me very much!" Christine beamed hastily. She unbuckled her seatbelt and gathered her bags, but the cop locked the doors.

"Where d'you think you're going?" He demanded. "You owe me one."

Her face fell. "Merry Christmas?" She tried earnestly. "Here's your soda..."

"And I want more than just a massage this time, too," He decided, leaning back and reaching for his zipper. "I want you to take it out."

Christine wrinkled her nose and her hand automatically flew to the ring around her neck. "I- I don't really want to... Do I have to?"

The cop caught sight of her uncertain face and grinned. "Yep, you have to, darlin'. I'm a policeman, you know. Now come over here and suck it."

She pouted and clutched the ring tightly, but when he gave her a stern look, her head slowly descended.

Finally, Christine huffed and puffed her way into her dorm room, laden down as she was with several Rite-Aid bags. She dumped them on her bed, and ran to her bathroom, winter coat, rubber boots and all.

_BLEEEEH!_

She hunched over the toilet seat and retched. Her mouth tasted disgusting, and she had a headache. When she saw the vomit in the toilet, she felt herself get sick again and retched violently.

"Meg..." she sniffled pathetically to the empty bathroom. "My head hurts."

After a moment, however, she remembered that Meg was not there. No one was there. She was all alone.

"I don't think I'm ready to grow up yet," She cried to herself. "I don't want to take care of myself." She pulled her coat around herself as tightly as possible and curled herself into a fetal position on the floor. Her head hurt so badly; it hurt to blink. When she was little and she used to get headaches like this, her grandma used to sing to her.

"I just called... to say I love you," Christine breathed into the cold bathroom floor. "I just called to say how much I care... I just called to say I love you, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart..." After one more refrain, she was asleep.

Christine awoke to vibrating in her pocket, and not the pleasant kind. _Bzzz, bzzz, bzzz_... it took her a moment to realize it was her cell phone.

She slowly sat up and tried to blink away the fog that had descended upon her. She could feel the remnants of the terrible headache still throbbing in the back of her head.

"Hello?" She answered uncertainly. Unless it was Meg, Raoul, or Professor... she didn't get many calls.

"Hello, is this Christine D-Day?" A lady asked. She sounded nice. Christine smiled tentatively. A new friend!

"I'm Christine Daae," She replied with a smile. "Are you my friend?"

The lady laughed. "Oh, you will be if you do me a big favor tomorrow night! This is Mrs. Destler, Professor Destler's wife, do you remember me?"

Christine's eyes widened, and she suddenly stared at the phone in fear. Her finger hovered above the End button nervously. She didn't want to get in trouble.

"Y-yes," She whispered nervously. "Am I in trouble?"

"Oh honey, no!" Mrs. Destler laughed again. "I was just going to ask you if you wouldn't mind babysitting for us tomorrow night!"

"Becky!" Erik yelled. "I said no, what don't you understand about that?"

"Erik, I don't know what your problem is," Becky replied annoying calmly. She shook her hair out of its clip and put in her pearl earrings delicately. "We needed a babysitter, and Jamie's in Cameroon, or wherever the Peace Corps took her. My mother is out of town... she seems like such a nice girl, aside from that fiasco with Nadir." She gave him a knowing look. "What's the matter?"

"I- I would rather not have students baby-sit my son, that's all," he said tightly.

She rolled her eyes and took her pearl necklace out of her jewelry box. Erik automatically stepped forward and helped her close the clasp. She squeezed his hand gently and tilted her head. "You used to have students baby-sit Alex all the time when she was a baby. That's how lots of these girls make their money, Erik."

"Well, it's already late. Do you really think she'll be available this short notice?" Erik said triumphantly. He crossed his arms in his half undressed state and cocked his head.

"Oh, I've already called her." Becky replied simply. "She should be here any minute."

"What?" Erik spluttered. The doorbell rang almost on cue, and Becky gracefully stepped out of her vanity chair and down the stairs. "Erik, darling, bring me my purse, will you?" She called from downstairs. He heard her open the door and greet someone warmly, and then he heard it...

_Giggling._

He didn't know who he was more angry at- his wife, who went against his wishes and called his seventeen year old mistress to baby-sit his two year old, or his seventeen year old mistress who stole his wedding ring and plotted to alert his wife to her presence in his life. He just knew that he was _pissed_.

He grabbed her purse angrily and stormed down the stairs to be faced with none other than his little sex bunny herself. She was just the picture of sweetness and innocence, especially standing next to Becky's elegant evening gown. Her hair was down, and held back with two tiny butterfly clips, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. Beneath her pink wool pea coat, the one he bought for her, he saw a twinkle of gold around her neck. He clenched his fists.

"Christine," He said through clenched teeth. "Hello."

"Hi Professor," She whispered shyly, avoiding his eye. She bit her lip and Erik was momentarily distracted- had she switched her lip-gloss from strawberry to watermelon? Of course she had! Because she left the strawberry one in his pocket!

Devil.

"Come in darling, just leave your stuff right there," Becky said, ushering her upstairs. "Zack is in his room, watching a movie-" She peeked her head into her son's room and nodded. "Beauty and the Beast," she whispered to Christine with a smile.

Christine clapped excitedly; Erik grunted. A two year was going to baby-sit his two year old. "I love that movie!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper. "That's my favorite movie!"

"Oh, well, I just started it, you can watch it with him if you want," Becky laughed. "Now we shouldn't be gone too long, only three or fours hours at most. Erik just has to finish getting dressed. As soon as the movie's over, just give Zack a bottle of milk- I left one in the refrigerator- and tuck him in. He should be tired, it won't be a problem. You can sleep here..." She opened the door to Alex's old room and Erik immediately opened his mouth to protest.

"Becky-" he began with a frown. "I don't think-"

"Erik," she replied in a warning tone. "Alex does not live here anymore. Say it with me. The guest bedroom is not made up, and I don't think Christine will inflict any lasting damage on the remnants of Alex's life with us. Ok-ay?" She turned to Christine and conspiratorially rolled her eyes. Christine giggled.

"Sometimes he can be just so loopy, you know?" Becky confided in the younger girl.

Erik clenched his teeth together and glared daggers at the two of them, cozy as can be. "Becky?" He said tightly. "May I please have a word?"

She followed him into their bedroom, and Erik quickly shut the door. "I don't want Christine babysitting." He said flatly.

"Erik, she's already here!" Becky hissed. "Jesus Christ, what is your problem?"

"I- I just don't- how did you get her number, anyway?" He snapped suspiciously. "I told you I didn't want her watching Zack, _I _never gave it to you!"

"I checked your roster." She replied simply.

"You went through my things?" Erik asked angrily. "I never said you could look through my things, Becky! What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with _me_?" Becky asked incredulously. "I'm your _wife_, what's so secret that you have to hide it from me, Erik? I'm trying to make sure we can have a nice, adult evening out without worrying about Zack. We've had the invitation for this party for weeks now, and excuse me for actually looking forward to a night that doesn't involve me cleaning and watching Barney!"

Erik crossed his arms silently and stonily stared at the doorknob. He grunted, and Becky nodded. "Thank you," she sighed wearily, opening the door. "Now finish getting dressed."

Erik kept his arms crossed and stormed to his closet. He pointed a finger upwards and scowled. "I know there's someone up there trying to get me," He hissed. "And just so you know- _I_ know! I don't deserve this kind of stress!" He tied his bow tie, adjusted his pockets, straightened his collar, and finally shrugged into his tuxedo jacket.

Meanwhile, Becky had made her way downstairs to get her coat and purse. When she walked into the kitchen to unplug her cell phone, she found Christine sitting on the floor next to Cesar, crooning and petting him affectionately. His head was in her lap, and his tongue was lolling out of his mouth- she rolled her eyes. He was in heaven.

"See-zer," Christine crooned. She scratched behind his ears. "You're a good doggie, aren't you? I love you, See-zer."

Becky laughed and checked her lipstick in her mirror. "Don't let him hear you say that," She advised, pointing to the ceiling. "He's always adamant about saying _Cesar_, not See-zer. Hey, how did you know his name, anyway?" She asked curiously.

Christine's mouth went slack and she blinked. She knew she couldn't tell her why she really knew, but her mind wasn't quick enough to think of another reason. "I-I- b-because I-"

"Becky!" Erik barked, storming down the stairs. "Where are my cufflinks?"

She rolled her eyes. "Right where you left them! They're in the top drawer of my vanity. Hurry up Erik, we're going to be late!"

He grunted, and squinted at Christine angrily. He was still wearing the stupid finger bandage.

After he left, Becky turned to Christine with a sigh. "Is he like this in class?" She asked.

Christine giggled and stood up. "He's my favorite teacher," She said shyly. "He's nice to me."

Becky smiled. "Yes, he's a good man. He likes teaching, likes the students. He likes you guys better than his graduate students," She confided. "I think teaching reminds him of Alex- he misses her so much, you know?"

Christine made a tiny noise in the back of her throat. Becky didn't notice.

"Well, why don't you head on upstairs and watch the movie with Zack?" She said presently, shrugging into her black winter coat. "Would you do me a big favor and tell him I'll be waiting in the car?" When Christine nodded, Becky smiled and gave her a quick hug. "Thank you so much, dear. I owe you one. Have a good night!"

Christine tilted her head and watched her walk into the garage and closed the door behind her. She felt something gnawing at her stomach, and it didn't feel pleasant. In fact, her stomach downright hurt. She bit her pinkie nail and slowly made her way up the stairs. She felt the same way when she moved in with Meg and Mrs. Giry. She didn't realize it was... guilt.

"Professor?" She called cautiously, peeking her head into his bedroom. She heard a noise in his closet and walked towards it. Suddenly, she felt someone grab her waist and pin her arms to her side from behind her. She squeaked and tried to fight him off, but her covered her mouth. He frantically undid the clasp of her necklace and retrieved his wedding ring triumphantly.

She soundlessly opened and closed her mouth and reached for her neck in shock. "M-my ring," She whimpered. She turned to him with wet blue eyes and her lower lip started to tremble. He tried not to be moved. "Give it back!" She sniffled. She even stomped her foot. "It's mine, give it back!"

"It's not yours!" He insisted sternly. He motioned to his finger helplessly and sighed. "It's my wedding ring, Christine! Why did you take it?"

She pouted her lip continued to tremble. "Because I wanted it," she whispered sadly. Her voice was tremulous, and she wrapped shaky arms around herself. "Mrs. Becky said she's waiting for you in the car," She said sadly.

Erik groaned in frustration and threw up his hands. "I have to go now," He said shortly. "We'll talk later. Please call me if you have problems with Zack." He thundered down the stairs, and Christine slowly made her way into Zack's room to watch Beauty and the Beast.

When Erik got downstairs, the car was already running and Becky was sitting in the passenger's seat silently. "We're going to be late..." she sang.

"Who cares?" he rolled his eyes and back out of the garage. "I just want to get back as soon as possible. That girl can barely take care of herself, let alone a two year old."

"Why do you say that?" Becky asked. "How do you know?"

"Because!" He spluttered. "She's my- student! I know these things. She never turns in her homework. Ever. And she always falls asleep in class."

"Just because someone doesn't do their homework doesn't mean they can't take care of themselves, Erik," she sighed. "Maybe she just doesn't like your class. Maybe she thinks it's boring."

The brakes squealed, and Becky stared at the red traffic light stonily. "_Every_onelikes my class," Erik hissed. "My class is _not_ boring."

"You're going to mess up your car if you keep braking like that," she pointed out. "And fixing brakes costs a lot of money..."

"I think you should sleep on the couch tonight," Erik muttered, leaning his head against his hand.

"Excuse me?" Becky asked indignantly. "_You_ can sleep on the couch! What the hell is_ wrong_ with you tonight, Erik? Can you please tell me what crawled up your butt and died?"

"_You_ crawled up my butt and died!" he roared, beeping and swerving around another car. "I specifically told you I did not want her babysitting, and you just ignored me and called her anyway. And you expect me to be happy about it! I didn't even want to go to this stupid thing in the first place! They're _your_ friends!"

"They are not _my _friends, Erik, they're _our_ friends!" she yelled back. "Maybe if you'd stop being such a goddamned misanthrope this wouldn't be such a big deal!"

"And maybe if you acknowledged me when I say I don't want someone watching _my_ son, we wouldn't be arguing right now!"

"Well maybe if you took more of an interest in Zachary like you did with Alex I would give your input a little more weight!" Becky screamed. "But since half the time you can't be bothered, excuse me if I once again made a decision regarding his well being _alone_."

"I love my son!" he bellowed. "How dare you imply that I don't?"

"I'm not saying you don't, I'm just saying we're both older, he wasn't planned, and half of the time it seems like you don't have the patience to deal with another toddler!" Becky snapped. "Do you think I expected to spend my middle ages making fish sticks and baby formula?"

"Neither did I!" He roared. "Do you think I knew my life would turn out the way it has? I used to- I used to be somebody! Nadir and I, we had purpose in our life, we fought for something! And now?"

"Well, excuse me if you think your life doesn't have _purpose_ anymore, Erik." Becky hissed. "I'm so _sorry_ you ended up with the life that you have!"

"Becky, I-" He sighed and motioned helplessly. "It's not that, it's just-"

"How did that lip-gloss really get in your pocket, Erik?" She suddenly asked, turning to him face on.

For one crazy moment, Erik had the sudden urge to tell her everything. To tell her how bored he was, tell her how Christine had solicited his attention, but he encouraged it... how he had brought her to their home and made love to her in their bed. To tell her how alive Christine made him feel, after being... dead? No, not dead, not quite. After being in hibernation for so many years.

He didn't. He couldn't, of course not, never. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and stared straight ahead. "I already told you," He intoned coldly. "I don't remember, I probably just picked it up." He caught sight of his wife out of the corner of his eye, and when he saw the weary, knowing look on her face...

Well he didn't think either of them believed him.


	26. How To Use A Condom

The party was... not a disaster, but certainly not a pleasant experience either. Erik and Becky spent most of the night on their respective sides of the floor while trying to mingle and act normal. Erik kept his hand firmly planted in his pocket, against his cell phone, in case any of his 'children' (by which he meant Alex, Zack or Christine) needed him. Nobody called.

After about two of hors d'oeuvres and chatting, Becky sought out her hostess, Melanie, in the kitchen. She was leaned over the sink frantically washing dishes. Becky quickly stepped forwards and removed her watch and bracelet.

"Let me help," She offered with a soothing smile.

Melanie looked up in surprise and started to protest but Becky grinned and pushed her over gently. "Oh no, Becky, please! Go and enjoy the party. I've got things under control here really..." Melanie protested halfheartedly.

Becky shook her head and started washing dishes next to her friend. "Remember that Christmas party Erik and I threw about five years ago? That was _before_ Zack and I was so overwhelmed I thought I was going to shoot someone." She wrinkled her nose and laughed softly. "Probably Erik. He hates big crowds, you know."

"Ha, that is _not_ Dave," Melanie muttered. She pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and scrubbed a platter furiously. "He _adores_ socializing, especially with all his little girlfriends..." She trailed off, then turned to Becky with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, please don't listen to me- I- I'm just a little stressed with this party, keeping everyone happy and eating, you know?"

Becky frowned faintly. A year ago- heck, even a few months ago, all she would've felt for Melanie was pity, and no understanding. Now she wasn't so sure. "Melanie, if you- need someone to talk to," she began uncertainly. "You know, about Dave, or anything- I'm here."

Melanie bit her lip and looked down at the dishes. She kept scrubbing. "Thanks, Becky," she said faintly. "Now why don't you go enjoy the party? Please, for me? I promise I've got things under control here." She gave her friend a quick smile, and Becky nodded.

"Ok, Mel," She dried her hands off and patted the other woman on the back. "Please let me know if you need anything else."

"Thanks, Becky," Melanie sighed. "I will."

As soon as Becky left the relative quiet of the kitchen and stepped into the noise and music of the party, a strong hand gripped her arm and guided her to a quiet hallway. "Where were you?" Erik demanded. His scowling face matched the white mask. She knew he had to be uncomfortable.

"I was talking to Melanie!" Becky replied defensively. "Do you mind?"

Erik sighed and started massaging his temples. "Can we please go now? I think we've got our fill, don't you?"

Becky sighed and raised an eyebrow at her husband. She couldn't help cracking a smile. "Are you sleepy?" She teased. "Are the people bothering you?"

Erik grunted and started leading her to the coat closet. He removed both of their coats and even helped Becky shrug into hers. "What a gentleman," she laughed. "Thank you sir, will you be driving home as well?"

"I'm still mad at you," Erik muttered. Becky slipped her right arm around his waist as they stepped into the main hall and searched for Dave. She saw a tiny smile lift the visible corner of his mouth, and she tightened her hold. Dave was surrounded by a bevy of beautiful ladies.

"Dave," she smiled warmly. "It's been a lovely party, but Erik and I have to be going."

"Oh, no, Becky, don't leave now!" Dave grinned. "The party's just starting! Have you met Natasha?" He presented the blonde on his left and his grin widened. "She's my new, ah, T.A. Not T_&_A, T.A.," He turned to her and Natasha laughed. "You know, teacher's assistant."

Becky pursed her lips and smiled tightly. "Yes, I know what a T.A. is, Dave. Thank you again for the lovely party. Merry Christmas!" Before he could protest again, she steered Erik around and straight for the door. Erik waved behind him.

"You didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye," He protested as they buckled into the car.

"You don't have to say goodbye to him," Becky said loftily. She was angry again, now that the magic of the music and alcohol was wearing off. She shut off the classical music Erik had playing. Erik silently turned it back on with his steering wheel controls.

"Did you drink?" He asked conversationally. He checked the time and swallowed nervously. It was almost twelve thirty.

"Yes."

"A lot?"

"... Enough."

"Why?"

"I'm mad at you." She turned to the window and opened it to drown out the sound of Yo Yo Ma. "Did you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I'm mad at you."

"Ok."

They didn't say another word to each other until they reached the house. Actually, they didn't even say anything once they got there- they simply walked inside silently, refusing to acknowledge the other. The first thing Erik did when he stepped inside was run up the stairs, two at time. _Christine, Zack, Christine, Zack..._

First he opened Alex's door. The bed was made, pristine, and everything looked untouched. He paled. No Christine. _Oh God,_ he thought. _I don't need to deal with a loose Christine in my house_. He warily turned to his son's room and squinted. There was a much bigger lump than normal in the bed. He slowly stepped inside, dodging loose toys as he did.

What he saw was not what he was expecting. Christine was burrowed under Zack's Power Ranger's comforter, looking as peaceful as an angel, even in the toddler sized bed. She was sucking her thumb. Zack was curled up right next to her, with an empty bottle in his hand and his thumb in his mouth as well. Two babies cuddled up together... Erik let out a sigh of relief.

"Should we wake her?" Becky whispered from behind him. "She's gotta be uncomfortable."

Erik shook his head and pulled the blanket tighter over both of them. "Let her sleep. She's fine; I'll take her home in the morning."

"She looks like a little girl," Becky commented, stroking Christine's halo of curls. "Like a baby."

"She is a baby," Erik murmured. _My baby._

--

After that night, neither Erik nor Becky brought up the mysterious lipgloss again. Erik was content to let it drop, and die, and burn, and be forgotten, and Becky seemed to be just as willing to forget it as well. Erik's finger healed miraculously, and he was able to wear his wedding band once more.

Christine went home in the morning as planned, after being woken up by an impatient Zack and a doting Becky (who had secretly taken a picture of the two adorable sleepy heads). She was paid a tidy twenty five dollars, and driven home by a benevolent Erik. Once in the car, she clung to him and begged for forgiveness for stealing his ring.

He allowed her to apologize (deep throat, swallow) when they reached her dorm building, and she finally went back to her room feeling safe and secure and well loved again, ring or no ring.

The first thing she did when she was settled in her room was call Mrs. Giry. She couldn't wait to tell her about the vitamins she had bought all by herself; she decided to leave out the police man part.

"Hello?" A sleepy voice answered groggily.

"Mrs. Giry?" Christine bit her lip in barely contained excitement. "Are you awake?"

"I am now, darling, what is it?" Mrs. Giry muttered. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the alarm clock on her night table. It was nine o clock in the morning.

"Guess what!" Christine squealed.

"What." Mrs. Giry grunted.

"I bought more vitamins for myself. All by myself! Aren't you proud of me?" She kept biting her lip anxiously, dying for a reaction.

"You bought… your vitamins… by yourself?" Mrs. Giry mumbled suspiciously. "I told you to call me, Christine- where did you get them?"

"At the pharmacy," Christine replied innocently. "At Rite-Aid."

"And how did you pay for them…?"

"With my money. My… friend gave me money. I bought soda and potato chips too! Aren't you proud of me?" She repeated excitedly. There was now a hint of desperation in her voice.

"Why- Christine, I'm beyond proud of you!" Mrs. Giry exclaimed in surprise. "I must say, I didn't think you could handle it on your own! I am very happy to be proven wrong for once, good for you!" Christine's face lit up and she let out a breath she had been holding since she picked up the cell phone. "You're happy?"

"I'm terribly happy for you, Christine," Mrs. Giry smiled. "This means you're on your way to becoming a responsible, self sufficient young lady. Congratulations!"

Christine's cheeks hurt from smiling so widely. If this was the kind of praise she got for buying her own (yummier, teddy bear shaped) vitamins, she never wanted to go back to the old ones.

She rang off with Mrs. Giry, and examined her phone again. She felt like calling Meg… but then got nervous. She had a feeling Meg might not like her new teddy bear vitamins. She could be such a fun-sucker sometimes! She would probably yell at her, throw away the teddy bears, and make her get the old, boring, tasteless little pills she had before.

Well, she liked her teddy bears, and she wasn't going to let Meg's boringness get in the way. There was no way she was going back to those old boring pills ever again.

--

Meg returned from her sojourn several days later. Christine stayed up the whole night before and decorated their little dormitory in a fit of nervous excitement. A limp banner made out of stapled coloring paper hung across the room and welcomed Meg back with little butterflies, flowers, and a smiling sun.Christine had even taken it a step further and ripped up several pieces of coloring paper to produce her own brand of 'confetti.' Meg winced at the thought of cleaning it all up. By the same token, however, she was genuinely touched by Christine's efforts to welcome her home. She felt very… sisterly.

"I got you a Christmas present too!" Christine said eagerly, dragging Meg onto her bed before the girl had a chance to unpack. "Here!" She thrust a garishly decorated package into Meg's hands and then sat back anxiously. "I hope you like it."

Meg opened the present tentatively, waiting to see a Barney's Best Hits cd or something. What she saw was not what she was expecting at all. "_From the Center of the Earth: Stories Out of the Peace Corps,_" Meg read softly. She trailed her fingers over the cover of the book gently, and opened her mouth. No words came out.

"Do you like it?" Christine finally burst out anxiously. "I went to the bookstore and I talked to the lady and everything-"

"Oh, Christine," Meg murmured. She finally looked up from the book and up at Christine. Her eyes were damp. "I love it, babe. Thank you so much."

"Sauna's leaving," Christine said plaintively. She pointed to the book. "There."

"I know," Meg sniffled. "I know she is. This book- this book will help me- i-it'll help me a lot. Thank you, Christine." She reached out and wrapped Christine in a tight hug; Christine nestled against her friend happily.

"Meg?" Christine mumbled after a moment.

"Yes?"

"You're kinda like my big sister, you know. I like you."

"I like you too, buddy. You're not bad." Meg sniffed again and rolled her eyes. "Did you get Santa's presents?"

"Yeah!" Christine wriggled away from Meg and grabbed some things from the floor. She turned to Meg with a puzzled look and held up the first present. "He got me a book. I dunno why, it wasn't on my list..." She scratched her head and passed it to Meg.

"Well, maybe Santa wants you to _start_ reading," Meg pointed out. "This is the first Harry Potter book. They're really popular, lots of people like them. You should give it a try."

"Harry Potter and the... the what?" Christine snatched the book back and pointed to the word impatiently. "What does that say?"

"_Sorcerer_'s Stone," Meg read. "Sor-cer-er."

"What's that?"

"Like... like a wizard or something. You know, like a magician. That's what these books are about, Christine, haven't you heard of them?" Meg wondered with an eye roll.

Christine wrinkled her nose and eyed the book distrustfully. "I don't like reading." She declared. "What's it about?"

"Well, it's about this guy named Harry Potter," Meg began, skimming the back. "And he's a wizard- but he doesn't find out until his eleventh birthday... let's see..." She skimmed some more and scratched her head. "He lives with his abusive aunt and uncle and their fat kid- everybody's _fat_ nowadays, what the hell's the matter with people?" She muttered under her breath. "It's adventure! It's fantasy! It's got magic and stuff! You'll like it, trust me."

Christine took the book back warily. "I don't know. Maybe I should send it back to Santa and tell him it wasn't on my list."

"No! Christine-" Meg bit her lip impatiently. "You can't send stuff back to Santa. He wouldn't like it. Just try to read it. Hey, why don't you get your professor to read it with you? He teaches English!"

"My Professor!" Christine purred, suddenly all aglow. "I slept over his house the other day. I _babysat._ I got twenty five dollars!"

"Someone let _you_ baby sit their child?" Meg asked incredulously, getting up from the bed and bringing her suitcase over to unpack. "How- did you not... uh," She eyed Christine and tried to think of a way to be less offensive than her thoughts. "Well, how did it go?"

"We watched Beauty and the Beast," Christine said promptly. "And then we both had milk, and then we went to sleep."

"Wow, it's like you two were meant for each other or something," Meg muttered. She started shuffling through her back and sifting out dirty clothes. "I can't find my brush- oh here it is. I'm gonna go take a shower-"

"Wait!" Christine sprung up and raced to the bathroom. "I have to pee first."

"Oh. Ok, hurry up," Meg ordered with a yawn. "I smell like butt." She fell back onto her bed and yawned again. She had to call Sauna. She missed Sauna- maybe she would join the Peace Corps too, just so she wouldn't have to be separated from Sauna. Her mother would have a fit- she could just imagine.

Meg sat up and rubbed her eyes sleepily. One week with her mother and grandparents was enough to last her a year. She never thought she would, but she preferred Christine's wacky, stressful drama any day. "What is taking her so long...?" She muttered, glancing at the bathroom door.

"...uh oh."

Meg's ears perked up and she sat up to attention. She knew that uh oh. She could hear it through anything, college walls, _anything_. That was a very bad thing to hear from Christine. "What _uh oh_?" She demanded through the door, pressing her ear against it frantically. "What's wrong?"

"Meg?" Christine called. "I have a boo boo."

"You have a boo boo?" Meg pressed her hands to her forehead. "Ok, where? What happened?"

"My kitty cat," Christine replied. She bit her lip and started chewing on her pinky nail. The stain in her panties made her nervous- she didn't like blood.

"Whooooa there, partner," Meg said in shock. "What do you mean? Did someone hurt you? I- do you have a _disease_ or something? What do you mean?"

"I'm bleeding..." Christine started to cry. She kept chewing on her pinky. "I-I don't know..."

"You're bleeding..." Meg repeated faintly. She slapped her forehead and a wide grin burst onto her face. "You're bleeding! Christine! That means you got your period! _Yes_! That is very good!"

"I don't like it!" Christine whimpered, biting her pinky and staring at her panties obsessively. "Am I sick?"

"No no no no no no!" Meg said hastily. "You're definitely not sick. This is totally natural, it happens to everyone- well, every girl at least. And it means there's no baby, thank the holy Heavens."

"I had a baby?" Christine cried in alarm. "What?"

"No!" Meg sighed and thumped her head against the door. "No baby. Period means no baby. No baby means good. Your teacher's already got two kids, he doesn't need any more, hahaha..." She trailed off wearily. "Jeeesus, can you imagine."

"Should I put on a band-aid?" Christine asked uncertainly.

Meg burst into laughter. "Christine, are you serious? Where did you grow up, _Mars_? Where would you _put_ the band aid?"

"... on my kitty cat."

"No, babe, no band aid. Ever. Can I come in?" She opened the door tentatively and Christine hummed her assent. She squatted down by the cabinets and went straight for the box of tampons- and then on second though, she replaced them and pulled out pads instead. The last thing they all needed was a tampon malfunctioning on Christine.

"Ok, look, these are _pads_- they go here, in your underwear..." Meg blinked and frowned. There was barely a drop of blood in Christine's teddy bear printed panties. She shrugged; maybe she just had a light flow. She explained how to use the feminine hygiene products, patted her on the head, and closed the door behind her.

Christine's phone was ringing when Meg stepped into the room. She picked it up distractedly and answered. "Hello?"

"... Hello? Christine?" A deep voice replied uncertainly. Meg frowned. That voice was way too deep to be any of Christine's college boyfriends- it had to be her professor.

"No, this is your student's roommate. I live in the same dorm room as her. Because we're both _students_. Would you like to speak to Christine, the underage student?" Meg replied sweetly.

Erik cleared his throat nervously. "Meg?" He ventured. "Is this Meg?"

"Yes."

"Um- hello," Erik continued. "I was just calling to tell Christine that I was coming to school- well, actually I just got to school, I'm here now- a-and I was wondering if she would like to-"

"Meet you for a quickie? Hold on." Meg held the phone away from her ear and faced the bathroom. "Christine! Your professor wants to you know what..." She called.

Christine slowly walked out of the bathroom, staring at Meg with doe eyes. "I don't like that thing," She whispered. "I didn't use it. It's weird."

Meg shrugged and held out the phone. "Suit yourself. Here, it's Mr. Letourneau."

Christine wrinkled her nose and took the phone. "Who's that?" She wondered. "Hello?"

"Christine," Erik finally smiled. He shut the car off and relaxed in his seat. "I miss you."

Christine beamed and sat down on her bed. "Professor!"She giggled. "I miss you too."

"I want to see you," Erik whined, adjusting his pants.

"I want to see you too," Christine pouted. Meg took one look at her and rolled her eyes; how old was this man? Forty five? Fifty? Jesus Christ. She waved her hands to get Christine's attention and gestured to the door. "Be right back," She mouthed. Christine nodded.

Meg headed straight for the elevator. It had been a week with minimal to no smoking, and she was ready to burst. As she waited for it to reach her floor, she strummed her fingers on her pants anxiously. _Nicotine, nicotine, gotta have some nicotine..._

The elevator dinged, and almost on cue, her phone vibrated. _Mom._ Holy crap. "Hello, Mother," Meg said dully. "How are you?"

"Are you buying cigarettes, Meg?" Mrs. Giry demanded.

_WTF. _"What- _no_, of course not- w-why would you even ask that..." Meg trailed off. She knew it was hopeless to deny anything to her mother. The lady was a government agent. "Yeah, yeah, ok, you got me. Sorry Mom."

"Megan, you know I do not like that," Mrs. Giry scolded. "It is a terrible habit!"

"I know, Mom," Meg whined. "But I just have to. I need nicotine like Christine needs sex."

"Megan, do not be vulgar to your mother. Speaking of Christine, did I tell you the good news?" Mrs. Giry asked proudly. "Christine went to the pharmacy all by herself while you were gone and got her birth control prescription filled! Isn't that wonderful? She's really making progress!"

Meg's jaw dropped as she walked into the student convenience store. "No way. Are you serious? How- does Christine even know what a prescription _is_?" She grabbed some Cheese Doodles and walked to the medicine aisle. She grabbed a box of Advil and some Midol. There was no way she was going to deal with a PMS-y adolescent like Christine. No thank you.

"I don't know!" Mrs. Giry shrugged in bafflement. "Maybe she heard something, maybe a classmate told her..."

"A classmate," Meg murmured thoughtfully. "Or a teacher. That's interesting, Mom. I've gotta go pay for these death sticks now, can I call you back later?" She grabbed a box of condoms at the last minute and headed to the counter. She clicked off, and pointed to the Newports behind the counter. The cashier shook her head disapprovingly and raised an eyebrow at the condoms.

"Not for me," Meg insisted with a grin. "The Newports, yes, condoms, no way. They're for a friend."

"Sure," The girl said dryly. She gave her the total and observed Meg quietly. "You know, smoking's bad for dancing. Ballet teacher wouldn't like it very much."

"It's a good thing I'm not majoring in ballet then," Meg grinned. "See you later!"

When she reached her dorm and opened the door, Christine was just shrugging into her pink wool pea coat and slipping on her favorite ballet flats. She looked up in surprise at Meg and smiled sheepishly. "I'm going to go study," She fibbed lamely. She grabbed the Harry Potter book off her bed and held it up. "See?"

"Yeah, uh huh," Meg scoffed. She reached into the bag and tossed the box of condoms at her friend. "I heard you filled your _birth control_ prescription all by yourself!" She said with slight suspicion. "Good job. I didn't even know you knew how or what or why..." She trailed off and searched for a sign of anything. Christine blinked uncertainly. "My mom told me what you told her," Meg explained warily.

"Oh!" Christine's face brightened. "I went to Rite-Aid. All by myself."

"Yeah, I know. Just... ad interim I got you these, just in case." Meg explained, gesturing to the box of condoms. Christine picked it up and wrinkled her nose. She opened her mouth to ask what they were, but Meg held up her hand. "Ask your professor to show you how to use them," She said sweetly. "Have fun."

Christine shrugged and opened the door. "Ok, bye bye Meg! See you later!"

"Wait!" Meg tossed Harry Potter at Christine. "Read!"

--

"Mmmm, don't you look delectable," Erik purred as Christine climbed into his car. He did a quick cursory glance around, and then quickly descended for a more than quick kiss. He smiled against her mouth and cupped her ears. "You're freezing!" He smiled.

She giggled and sniffed. Her nose, ears, and cheeks were bright red. She looked like a little cherub, like the naked ones in the pictures. "You're cold too!" She insisted, poking the exposed half of his nose. "Like ice."

"Warm me up," He teased. He reached inside of her coat and squeezed around a bit- when he felt something hard, he stopped. "What's this? And this?" He pulled out the box of condoms and then the Harry Potter book. He looked up at her and scratched his head. "This is kind of an odd mix to have stuffed in your jacket."

"Meg gave me this," She explained, pointing to the condoms. "And Santa gave me this." She pointed to Harry. "Meg told me to tell you to tell me how to use that," She continued, eyeing the condom box innocently. "What is it?"

"Uh- well, these are condoms, Christine," Erik explained with a blush. "They're a form of birth control. So you don't have a baby."

"Why is everyone talking about babies?" She demanded. "Do I have a baby?"

Erik paled and he clutched the condoms tighter. "Jesus Christ, don't even joke." He swore. "Why do you say that? Who said something about a baby?"

"Meg said it," Christine replied. "I went to go pee this morning, and I was bleeding! My kitty cat was bleed-"

"Christine!" Erik cried. "Please. There are somethings about... ladies' bodies that men do not need to hear. This is one of them."

She blinked uncertainly. "Oh. Well anyway, Meg said it meant I didn't have a baby. I don't get it- why is everyone talking about babies? Why would I have a baby?"

"You wouldn't," He soothed, taking her in his arms again. "You've been taking your vitamins, right?"

She nodded dutifully.

"Well, then you don't have to worry about a baby," Erik smiled. He tucked some curls behind her ear and wrinkled his nose at the condom box. "And we don't need these either... I can't feel you around me with them..." He tugged on her ear with his teeth and blew gently. "I love to feel you around me..."

"What does it do?" She wondered, now intrigued. "How do you do it?"

Erik sighed and rested his head against her neck. "I'll show you. Do you want me to show you?" She nodded and he started the car. "We have to go somewhere a little more discreet... even though everyone's not back yet..." He murmured. He spotted a bunch of trees behind the gymnasium and a very hidden parking spot beneath them. He parked quickly, and turned off the car; Christine suddenly grabbed his arm and shook her head with a whimper. "Cold," She sniffed.

He turned the car back on and put the heat on full blast. He heard Vivaldi playing from the nearly muted radio. "Better?" He asked. She nodded happily. He ripped the box open and tore off one foil packet. "This," he began, holding it up for her to see. "Is a condom. Condoms prevent the man's semen from entering the lady's vagina and the man's sperm from fertilizing the lady's egg. Got it?"

Christine blinked. You had me at hello? He lost her at 'this.'

"You know how babies are made, right?" Erik asked. He had a bad feeling about it.

She nodded. "When a girl and a boy love each other very much, they make a baby." She said simply. "And then the baby grows in the mommy, and then the baby comes out of the mommy's belly button."

Erik covered his mouth. He couldn't stop his laughter. What a sweet little Martian his Christine was. "First of all," He said when his laughter dissipated. "The baby does _not_ come out of the lady's belly button. We won't get into that now. Actually... we won't get into that at all. You have a good start. The most important thing to remember is _no baby_. We do not want a baby, got it?"

Christine nodded. That she could understand. No baby. "No baby." She repeated.

He smiled and leaned closer. "Good girl. Now you want to know how to use the condom?" She nodded eagerly. "Give me a kiss... and another one... good girl," He smiled against her mouth. He took her hand and gently brought it to his lap. "Now give Professor a massage."

She giggled and obeyed, rubbing and kneading him through his trousers. When she felt him strain against the zipper, she slowly unzipped it and started to pull him out. Her hands started to go to work again, but Erik suddenly stopped her.

"Okay," He murmured. He tore the packet open and pulled the condom out. "I want you to cover this-" He gestured towards his dick. "With this." He pointed to the condom. "Can you do that?"

"Yes!" She giggled eagerly, reaching for the condom. She placed it on the head, and rolled it down to the base with clumsy fingers. It looked tight. "You know," She whispered thoughtfully, kissing his neck. "Raoul's you know what is longer than yours..."

Erik stopped short and pulled back. His cheeks flooded with blood and he could feel his neck get hot. "Excuse me?" He croaked, half in anger, half in humiliation.

"But..." She reached down and wrapped her fist around him. "You're a _lot_ thicker. And I like it thicker more than longer." Her fist started moving up and down, and she resumed kissing his neck. "When you're inside," She whispered. "You stretch me _so_ much... I feel like I'm going to burst."

"Okaaaay, no more condom," Erik said hastily, rolling the prophylactic off of his dick. "Come here, big girl. I need you."

"Big boy," She teased with a giggle as she climbed into his lap. "_Thick_ boy... when we're done, we have to read Harry Potter!"

He groaned and pushed inside of her.


	27. Gabrielle

Several things happened as January rolled along. Erik's marriage remained status quo- that was number one, the first and foremost, and most important. They did not have sex once- and Becky didn't even seem to notice. As much as Erik was thankful for not needing to make an excuse to avoid her... he couldn't help but feel a little offended. Was sex with him so... unnecessary? So forgettable that she was able to go for weeks- months!- without it?

Erik knew he wasn't exactly Brad Pitt. He didn't have rock hard abs, a twelve inch penis, or the stamina of an eighteen year old. But he wasn't exactly Jack Black either- the unscarred half of his face was handsome, his stomach wasn't flabby, and he always thought he was satisfying in bed.

At least Christine thought so. He couldn't help but find her devastating attraction to him slightly odd. If he so much as smiled at her, she would get horny. If he touched her, forget it. At least he knew he was able to make her come every time they made love- for him, a now fifty year old man, to have the ability to bring a hormonal seventeen year old to orgasm every single time... well, it inflated his ego. Maybe a little too much.

That was another thing that happened in January. Erik finally turned fifty years old, on January fourth. Becky threw him a modest party at the house- they invited Nadir, Melanie, Dave, and one or two more professor friend and wives, for a simple dinner and cake. Truth be told, it was a black day for him. By the time the day was over, if one more person had told him that he was officially half a century old, he would've punched them.

Christine threw him her own little party- she insisted he take her to the cabin in the forest, and when they got there, he had to be led inside by her, with his eyes closed. She had decorated the 'bedroom' with a coloring paper banner that screamed, 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY PROFESSOR!' He caught sight of the backside of it for a split second- he saw the name Meg, but she quickly distracted him. She danced for him, in sinfully sexy lingerie (white stockings, white thong, lacy white bra) and then proceeded to use her Magic Bullet on him for the rest of the evening.

But the most... interesting thing that happened in January was that Christine developed... a sort of crush. A fixation of sorts. It was unexpected- sometimes, Erik vaguely wondered if she had some sort of behavioral disorder that caused her to be... so Martian-like at times. She didn't have many social skills, and this was observed by Erik, the Misanthrope.

Erik had a theory. He believed that what Christine lacked in female relationships, she made up for in spades with her many boyfriends. He had a funny feeling that she really didn't know the first thing about friendship; Meg was an exception. In fact, she probably didn't know the first thing about having a relationship period. Christine understood sex.

And so, she was sitting in his office one afternoon, reading Harry with him (Hagrid had just shown up, and Christine was very anxious to know what happened next), when the someone who would soon win her admiration knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Erik called, folding the page he had been reading and walking to the door. For once, they hadn't been doing anything wrong. He felt good. He opened the door and smiled pleasantly. "Gabrielle!" He said warmly. "How may I help you? Come in, my student and I were just reading," He gestured towards Christine on the couch and led the girl inside.

"Hi Professor," Gabrielle smiled apologetically. "I'm really sorry to bother you in your office, I just wanted to ask you something about today's lecture- it won't take long, I promise-" She smiled again and winked at Christine. Christine blinked in confusion; she was ready to be upset at the girl taking her Professor away from her, but she looked nice. And it wasn't nice... to not like nice people. Right?

"Of course, Gabrielle, please, it's no trouble at all!" Erik exclaimed, sitting down at his desk and taking out his lesson plans. "Now tell me what you need help with." He didn't mind helping Gabrielle at all- he liked her very much. In fact, she was probably one of his favorite grad students. Her skin was slightly lighter than Meg's girlfriend's, and she had a voice that was meant to be on radio. She was always turned out perfectly in coordinating Gap ballet flats and cardigans- today, she was sporting dark blue. Erik smiled; she was such a lovely, smart, motivated young lady.

Christine couldn't stop staring at her breasts. They were _ginormous_. She had never seen ta-tas as big as the girl sitting in front of her. She just could not stop staring. And her _behind_! It was huge! Christine was fascinated. She had always been skinny, all her life- she would never know what it was like to sport such large breasts or such a behind of Biblical proportions. She was impressed. No wonder he liked her.

She leaned forward to listen to their conversation better. Her voice sounded like... butter, or marmalade, or something sweet like that. It was soft and even, and she pronounced every vowel and every consonant perfectly. She sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, and her feet flat on the floor. Christine examined her own legs, curled beneath her self consciously, and slowly let them down. She sat up straighter and tried to mimic Gabrielle's posture; it was harder than it looked.

She didn't even realize they were done going over Gabrielle's questions when they finally turned to her. She accidently tipped over in the couch, she was concentrating so hard on sitting just like Gabrielle. Erik cleared his throat and stared at her over his reading glasses. "Ah...Christine?" He ventured. "Are you alright?"

Christine blinked and then realized they were both staring at her. She blushed; she didn't want Gabrielle looking at her when she looked dumb. "Yes," She mumbled under her breath. Her cheeks burned.

Gabrielle stood up, smoothing her skirt as she did. Christine's eyes bulged at the breasts and behind. H...u...g...e. "Well, thank you for the help, Professor," She smiled graciously. "I really appreciate it- juggling classes and work and church can be so demanding sometimes! I better get going now- I don't want to be late for gospel choir! Thanks!" She waved cheerily and sent another wink in Christine's direction. Christine watched her go sadly.

Erik smiled and sat back down on the couch with Christine. "She's a nice girl," He commented, looking for their page in Harry. "She's always volunteering for some drive here, always heading to church, always does her work..." He patted Christine's head and brought her against his side. "Nice girl. Ready to read some more Harry?"

Christine nodded with a loud sigh. Gabrielle was better than Harry. "What class is she in?" She wondered, pressing her feet into his lap expectantly. He automatically began massaging them and stroking her legs gently.

"She is a grad student," Erik replied cautiously. "She's in my math class."

"What's a grad student?" Christine asked, scooting closer and examining his sweater. He wasn't wearing a bow tie today.

"Well, you're an _under_grad student... graduate school is more advanced. Once you finish the regular four years of undergraduate school, you could apply to graduate school and continue your studies. Understand?" He patted her thigh and kissed her forehead.

Christine's eyes widened and she turned to him in distress. "So... once people finish school... they go to _more_ school? _Why_?"

Erik laughed. "You know, some people actually _like_ school," He pointed out. "And when people like a subject very much, they have the option of getting the highest degree possible in that field. That's when you get doctors, specialists, that sort of thing."

"I thought doctors went to doctor school," Christine frowned. This was confusing.

"Well, there's an _Md_ doctor, which is the type of doctor that goes to doctor school, and then there's a _Ph.D._ doctor. I have my Ph.D. in French Literature and Mathematical Physics. My correct title is Doctor, and that's how all of my mail is addressed, but I never really enforce it at school." He wrinkled his nose.

"You're a doctor?" Her eyes widened. "You're a teacher!"

"I have my doctorate in those two subjects, but yes, I am a teacher. Don't you worry about it," He soothed. "All you have to worry about is passing your classes, and I'll make sure of that. But maybe it wouldn't hurt if you did your homework once in a while..." He growled, tickling her sides.

She shrieked and tried to squirm away from him; when he finally let her go, she looked up at him expectantly. "I like math." she announced. "I'm good at math."

"I teach very, very advanced math." he replied with a smile. "For people who are going to be mathematicians, or scientists, or engineers. Not the kind of stuff most people take."

She pouted. "I'm good at math." she insisted.

"I'm sure you are, darling," Erik said offhandedly, patting her hand. "Now let's get back to Harry, shall we?" He opened the book and pulled her against him once more.

"Shall we," Christine mimicked sleepily. "Why yes, I do believe we shall."

"And so, when you see a problem like this, you must always remember that.." Erik trailed off and glanced at the door. He could've sworn he saw something flash by; maybe it was just his imagination. "That... we uh, need to set up appropriate boundary conditions to approximate a designated harmonic function. Got it?"

His students scribbled frantically, copying every last little notation he had written on the board. He swung around to look at the door again; again, nothing. He frowned and walked toward it slowly... the students were still completely wrapped up in his notes. He reached out to turn the handle, when suddenly a wide face with big blue eyes popped up on the other side.

"Holy shit," He swore, clutching his heart. Almost collectively, his class turned around to stare at him. He rolled his eyes; even in grad school, a teacher cursing was shocking. "Sorry," He smiled sheepishly. "I was startled. Please excuse me for a moment." He opened the door and quickly stepped outside.

"Professor!" Christine purred, immediately touching him in every inappropriate place she could think of. "How are you?"

"Christine!" He snapped, grabbing her hands and holding them away. "Are you crazy? There are cameras in these hallways! What are you doing here? I'm in the middle of a class!"

"I wanted to say hi," She whined. "I miss you."

He frowned suspiciously. "Shouldn't you be in class?" He demanded. He was momentarily distracted by her sweater; it was far too low cut, in his opinion. He reached out and tried to pull it up.

"No... not _really_," She waffled, allowing his to adjust her clothing. One sleeve slipped off her shoulder; he blushed and tried to pull it back up.

"Not really," He scoffed, crossing his arms and eyeing the rest of her. Her jeans were far too tight, he thought angrily. "That means you're skipping class. Why? You know, if you get in trouble, you get in trouble. I can't help you out. What class is it?"

"It's gym class," she murmured, shuffling her feet. "I don't like it."

"Why not? I thought you liked that class," He pointed out softly.

"They switched me to another class... and I don't like it anymore." She pouted. "Raoul is in my class!"

Erik frowned. "Raoul?" He repeated. "Raoul is... your boyfriend." He frowned.

"I don't want him to be my boyfriend anymore," She sniffed. "I like you! But he won't leave me alone... My head hurts."

"Well, have you broken up with him at least?" Erik asked.

She shuffled her feet again and twirled a strand of hair. "No... not _really_..."

"Well, Christine-" Erik rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Maybe you should try that! And if he doesn't leave you alone after that, tell your teacher he's bothering you. Ok?"

"Ok," She mumbled. "Can I stay with you today? Please? Pretty pretty please?"

He sighed and massaged his temples. "You know, I'm in the middle of a class," He pointed out. "With my grad students."

She brightened. "Oooh," She cooed excitedly. "With Gabrielle? May I stay pleeeeease?" She pouted and held her hands together anxiously.

"Fine!" He relented. "But this is the last time, do you understand me? I don't want you skipping anymore classes. And you have to be good, you're not allowed to talk or distract any of my students." He said sternly. She giggled and nodded. "_Especially_ not any of my male students! Ok?"

"Ok! Thank you!" She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a quick hug. He patted her head and led her inside. The students were still writing. A couple looked up as Erik walked back inside, and he gestured to Christine. "Everyone, just keep on working and ignore our little guest here. She's one of my freshman students."

Christine glanced around the classroom and stopped when she saw the face she was looking for. Gabrielle was sitting in the front row, at the very end near the window. She glanced up when she heard Erik introduce Christine, and then smiled. Christine beamed; and Gabrielle wiggled her fingers in her direction.

"You, Miss," Erik murmured to Christine. "Go sit down in my desk and be good. The rest of you, we've only got about fifteen more minutes left, so just finish up the notes and then you can go. And remember!" He raised his voice over the sudden rumble of students standing up. "You have a test next week. It's going to be hard. Study!"

About half of the class immediately stood up and started walking towards the door. Over the next fifteen minutes, the rest of the class slowly filtered out, until it was just Christine, Erik, and Gabrielle. Christine felt like she was going to pee, she was so excited. She watched Gabrielle carefully copy down everything Erik had written on the board, and then finally stand up. Today, she was wearing dark washed bootcut jeans, emerald green flats, and a cable knitted green cardigan.

Christine looked down at her own pink striped sweater, skin tight blue jeans, and five year old Keds. She suddenly felt extremely self conscious; her breasts weren't even an eighteenth of Gabrielle's humongous ta-tas. And her behind? Forget it. Gabrielle... _moved_ when she walked.

"All done, Gabrielle?" Erik smiled as she walked by them.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. "Sorry for taking so long, Professor," She said sheepishly. "I write so slow! I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

Erik shook his head. "Don't worry about it, you can take all the time you need. I don't have a class now, so if you ever need some extra help, feel free to ask." He shrugged. "It's my lunch time, but I stay here, so it's just me. And, well, that, today," He admitted, gesturing to Christine.

"I saw you reading Harry Potter the other day," Gabrielle said to Christine with a wide smile. "Do you like it?"

Christine nodded speechlessly. "Y-yes," She stammered shyly. "He's a wizard."

Gabrielle laughed and nodded. Erik closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know! Are you in the Comparative Literature class?" She asked curiously.

"Y-yes," Christine stammered again. "Professor Destler is my teacher."

Erik groaned to himself. He figured it was better to stay out of whatever Christine was doing or planning to do about Gabrielle. He wondered what it was about her that made his little Martian even more... Martian-like than normal, but by now he had learned not to think too much around Christine. It would only confuse him more.

"Christine is a singer," Erik blurted suddenly, turning to the two girls with a blink. "She's incredible."

"Really?" Gabrielle asked in surprise. She sounded pleased. "So am I! What do you sing?"

Erik butt in before Christine could give a dumb answer. "Anything," He said proudly. "Her range is off the charts, she can sing anything by ear- it's really amazing. She _mimics_ people and sounds just like them."

Christine nodded eagerly. "Yeah!" She agreed. She wondered what a range was. Her first thought was home, home on the range.

"I'd love to hear you sometime," Gabrielle said. "Maybe you can come to my church? We have a gospel choir there- actually, that's where I'm headed now, I really should be going. I'll see you later, ok?" She smiled and waved. "Bye!"

Once she left, Christine turned to Erik with star struck eyes. "Oh, Professor," She breathed. "I think I'm in love."

The next day Erik had his math class, he was faced with another interruption. About halfway through, as he sat at his desk grading papers and his students worked on a problem on the board, he heard a loud thump from the door. He looked up in alarm and frowned in confusion. After he realized what the thump was, however, he stood up with an angry frown on his face.

Christine was there again. Her forehead and nose were pressed to the little window in the door, and she was crossing her eyes and making faces. Most of the students kept working, but a few in the front row saw her and started giggling quietly.

"Back to work!" Erik snapped as he stormed to the door. He yanked it open roughly, stepped outside, and slammed it shut behind him. Christine beamed up at him and opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, he took his pencil out of his pocket, rapped her sternly on the nose with it, and pinched her lips shut with his fingers.

"Mmmfdhffds!" She frowned.

"Go. Back. To. Class. Goodbye." He ordered. He spun around on his heel, walked back into class, and slammed the door behind him. Christine crossed her arms; The Pout slowly crossed over her face. It truly was an amazing transformation. First, her brow started to furrow. Next, her cheeks began to flush, until they were bright red. She stuck out her bottom lip, it started to tremble, she started huffing, and her eyes filled up.

"Excuse me?" A tentative voice behind her said. "It's Christine, right?"

Christine turned around slowly, her face still ready for a breakdown. When she saw who it was, she gasped. Gabrielle stood in front of her, like large breasted, Gap-shift-dress and Banana Republic-cardigan clad angel. The Pout vanished; instead, her face broke out into an ecstatic grin.

"Gabrielle," She whispered in awe. "It's you."

Gabrielle threw her head back and laughed. "You remember me from the other day," She said with a curious grin. "I always see you hanging around Professor Destler's room. Is he your favorite teacher?"

Christine nodded vigorously. "Oh yes," She said. "He's my favorite."

"I like him too," Gabrielle said with a decisive nod. "He's always helpful, and he's really funny. I think the mask makes people nervous sometimes, though." She sighed and walked closer to the door. "Well, I took way too long of a bathroom break. I'll see you later, ok?"

"Ok!" Christine whispered. She bit her lip in barely contained excitement. She didn't know what it was about Gabrielle, but from the moment she first saw her... she just had this _feeling_ that she had to be her friend. She was so nice, and pretty, and... large. Christine furrowed her brow. As a matter of fact- she didn't really know anyone large. The largest person she knew was Professor, and he wasn't _large_ the same way that Gabrielle was large. Professor was tall and solid, like a big brick wall. Gabrielle was soft, and cushiony, like a big fluffy pile of pillows.

"Can I come to church with you?" She blurted just before the door closed. She sucked in a breath; she could practically feel Erik's anger radiating through the walls.

"Wait for me," Gabrielle mouthed with a wink, closing the door gently.

Christine nodded eagerly. She was so excited. She had never had a friend before, not really. Meg was her friend, but Meg was her friend because Meg _had_ to be her friend. And Sauna was kind of her friend, but only because _she_ had to be her friend too. She had never made a friend all by herself before. She was always friendly to everyone, but even in high school, nobody ever invited her to sleep-overs, or birthday parties.

Meg said it was because girls were threatened by the rate at which Christine slept with everyone's boyfriends. Christine was just so darn clueless she never figured out that if she stopped sleeping with everyone's boyfriend, everyone might like her. Meg always felt that Christine had too delicate of a personality to survive in high school. She was too naive and gullible to hold her own against the tired, the poor, and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free.

So Christine waited outside for her new friend to finish class. She skipped gym again- she hated gym now. Raoul wouldn't leave her alone. When he first got back from his vacation, they went to his room and started kissing. She liked kissing him, so they kept at it, until they were doing it again.

_Christine wrinkled her nose. Something didn't feel right. She wriggled around beneath Raoul's muscular build and tried to make him hit the right spot, but it didn't work. It just felt uncomfortable. She sighed and tickled her fingers over his chest except- she frowned. There was no chest hair there. Her fingers found his left hand, and she looked for a ring to play with, but his ring finger was empty._

_ "Raaaaoul," She whined. "You're not doing it right."_

_ "Wha?" He panted, slowly to a stop. "What's the matter, baby?"_

_ She wasn't _his_ baby, she was _Professor's_ baby. Only he could call her that. "Your face isn't prickly," She muttered, feeling the two smooth, perfectly chiseled cheeks. He was pretty... and she liked him, but... "I don't want to anymore." _

_ "Oh God, Christine, come on!" Raoul cried. He lowered his head and kissed her neck, but she scrunched her shoulders up so he couldn't. "Please, baby, you can't jut cut me off right in the middle! What's wrong? Am I doing something wrong? You always like it!" _

_ She mumbled something under her breath. Raoul kissed her nipples, and the tingly came back, sort of. It was just a little tingly. He found her clit and started kissing her again, and she grudgingly kissed him back. He gratefully finished quickly and rolled onto his back._

And then, she left. She muttered something about homework, and she ran to her room as quickly as she could. She hadn't seen him- except for gym class- since. He just didn't _do_ it right anymore. Professor knew how to do it perfectly- she even liked his ugly half. It was fun to play with when he moved and thrust above her. She liked to blow on his face and watch him blink his eyes in distraction. The blue eye blinked funny_; _because of the big scar that cut down the middle of it. There was always an interesting picture to be found in the scars and ridges and grafted skin that covered his right side.

Suddenly, the door behind her opened. "What are you still doing here?" Erik demanded quietly as students began filtering out from behind him. "I told you to go back to class, Christine. You can't just _skip_ like this, do you understand that?"

"_I'm_ going to _church_," Christine sniffed haughtily. She crossed her arms and stared at the wall stonily. "With Gabrielle." She added.

"With Gabrielle? My student, _that _Gabrielle?" Erik asked in surprise. "Does she know, or is this something you just decided on your own?"

"She asked me to," Christine fibbed. "Go away. I don't want to talk to you. You're mean."

Erik opened his mouth speechlessly. Go away? He was in front of _his_ classroom! "You go away!" He shot back. "This is my hallway!"

"_I'm_ waiting for _Gabrielle_." Christine said loudly. "She's my new friend."

"You don't _have_ any friends!" Erik hissed.

Christine finally turned to him. Her stony facade was gone- instead, a terribly hurt expression and shocked eyes took its place. After a second, her eyes fluttered to the floor uncertainly and she dropped her arms and let them hang loosely at her sides. Her throat felt dry, and she suddenly felt like crying. "Yes- I d-do," She whispered in a barely audible voice. "I do have friends-"

"Hey!" Gabrielle suddenly appeared behind Erik with a breathless grin on her face. "Christine, you're still here! Ready to go? I'm sure my choir will love to hear you!"

Erik turned to Gabrielle with a startled expression. "She's coming with you?" He asked in shock. "_Christine_ is going with you?"

Gabrielle nodded happily. "Yeah, we're always looking for new faces at my church. And Christine's face will definitely be new-" She laughed and shrugged. "It's an African Methodist Episcopal Church. But it's open to everyone, you don't have to be black! Everyone always thinks that." She shrugged again.

"You're not even religious," Erik accused Christine.

"It's never too late to find God, Professor," Gabrielle said wisely. "But you can be too late for church. We'd better get going- see you next class!" She took Christine's arm and led her away. As Erik watched them go, Christine turned around once more and gave him the saddest look he had ever seen from her.

He suddenly realized that Christine was the way that she was because... she was so used to people telling her things like the things he had just said. She was too used to criticism, and people underestimating her, and being told things like... she didn't have any friends. Why did he even say that? He groaned. Stupid stupid stupid. He knew why he said it; he was jealous that she was interested in someone other than him. He had gotten used to her unending adoration, obedience, and neediness. He _liked_ it. _He_ needed it; he needed her.

He could only hope he wouldn't lose his baby doll to this new, buxom interloper, or even worse- _God_.


	28. News

"And _then_, everybody took out a book, and we _prayed_! And then after we prayed, wesang _again_! I sang _gospel_ music! And _every_body looked like Gabrielle! Everyone was so _big_!" Christine went on breathlessly, as she regaled Meg with stories of her Day With Gabrielle.

Meg tilted her head and examined her left thumb nail in greater detail. It didn't look quite as symmetrical as the right one. She dropped her nail polish and reached for the file again. "Reeeally," She intoned in response to Christine's eager babbling. "I have not set foot into a church since I was... thirteen years old."

Christine's mouth made an O of surprise. "Why not?" She asked. "Don't you like it? Everyone wears _hats_!"

"It was right after I came out and went on a date with my first girlfriend," Meg shrugged. "And the preacher 'condemned' me and told me to repent- pfft, as if." She dropped the file and finally grabbed the nail polish. "I told him to go fly a kite and quit spying on the altar boys changing." SHe looked down at Christine over her glasses and pointed. "He did that, you know."

"Did what?" Christine asked, chewing her lip anxiously.

"He spied on the altar boys. And hey, I'm not really one to talk, what with myself and the crowd I hang around with-" She gestured to Christine. "But if you're gonna do something, don't tell me I'm going to hell for seeing a movie!" She shrugged again and rolled her eyes. "So I never went back to church again. Besides, it was _boring_. Yech."

"Well, _I_ liked it," Christine sniffed loftily. She gave Baby a kiss on the top of her head and regarded the ceiling thoughtfully. "I'm going to call Professor and tell him about it."

"Have you been reading Harry?" Meg demanded.

"They just got _sorted_," Christine informed Meg with a nod. She giggled and covered her mouth. "That hat talked to Harry!"

"Do you like it so far?" Meg asked with a smile. _Finally, the first book Christine ever read in her entire life!_

Christine nodded. "I like it. His mommy and daddy are dead too, just like mine. My mommy and daddy are dead, you know." Christine informed Meg.

Meg coughed. "I hadn't heard."

"Ok, I'm going to call Professor now, so be quiet." Christine said primly, grabbing her cell phone and laying down in the direction of the wall. She dialed, listened, and waited for him to pick up. It rang and rang, but after almost ten rings of him not picking up, she hung up. "I wonder why he's not answering," She frowned.

"Who's calling you?" Becky snapped, throwing the towel down on the counter. "You're _always_ on the phone nowadays- who is it? Mmm?"

Erik kept his cell phone firmly planted in his pocket. His face turned red and he tried not to look guilty. He knew who it was- who else would it be? It was Christine. Christine calling to tell him all about church with Gabrielle and about how much God loved her, and how much fun Sunday school was. He wondered if she got to the 'adultery is wrong' chapter of the Bible yet.

"It's no one!" He replied tensely. "Can you relax? You're always fucking _interrogating_ me, in my own house, I feel like a goddamn criminal, Becky!"

Becky pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "Erik, what's going on? You've been acting strangely all this year. You're not the same! What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing is wro-" A shrill ring from his pocket informed him that he had a message. He closed his eyes briefly and cursed Christine a thousand times over. Text or voice message, she knew she wasn't supposed to leave either. He had _told_ her this, they had been through it over and over again!

"You've got a message," Becky shrugged sharply, gesturing to his pocket with the towel. "Why don't you check it? Hmm? Who is it?"

"It's no one-"

"So _check it!_" Becky screamed, balling up the towel and chucking it at him. He ducked at the last minute, and it made a loud _splat_ sound when it hit the wall behind him. He turned around in shock as it plopped on the floor, leaving a large, dark wet spot on the wall. "Look!" She snapped. "Look at the wall now, Erik! Thank you so much!"

"What was I supposed to do, let it _hit_ me?" He demanded incredulously. "What's the matter with _you_?"

"Are you having an affair?" She demanded, placing one hand firmly on her hip. "Tell me."

"Jesus Christ- _no_!" He cried, throwing his hands in the air. "I can't take this anymore." He grabbed his keys from the counter and started walking towards the door. "I'm going out- I don't know when I'll be back."

"What about _Zack_?" Becky cried, following him with the wet towel. "You were supposed to stay home and help me watch him today, Erik!"

"I can't be around you right now!" He yelled. "You keep accusing me, accusing me, accusing me, and-"

"And what? What are you doing?" She challenged. "You're _leaving_, God knows where, to see God knows who- who is it?"

"NOBODY!" He exploded, yanking the door open and slamming it behind him. He started the car angrily and backed out of the driveway without another look at his wife. The hot, angry tears that had started to form in her eyes were almost impossible to see anyway.

"What's a-dul-ter-y?" Christine wondered curiously.

Erik pulled down her blouse and kissed a nipple. After a few more kisses, it was rosy and plump and puckered, and he started to suckle it gently. "Nothing," He murmured distractedly, cupping her bottom and squeezing occasionally. "Absolutely nothing. Come here and give me a kiss." He pulled her close, but she resisted slightly.

"Gabrielle said having premarital sex is adultery." She informed him, finally laying down and twirling a curl. "What's that mean?"

Erik stopped what he was doing and stared her in the eye. "What else has Gabrielle told you?" He asked suspiciously.

"She said adultery is wrong, and so is premarital sex. That's what we talked about on Sunday." Christine replied. She kissed his nose and rested her chin on his shoulder. "I know what _sex_ is, but I don't know what _premarital_ sex is. Is it bad?" Her eyes were wide.

"Listen to me," He murmured, bringing her closer. "I love you, Christine. You know I love you, right?" She nodded into his chest and wriggled closer. He kissed her forehead. "Don't listen to Gabrielle, sweetheart. She's a nice girl, but religion is a hoax. It's all fake, darling, just go for the singing and the potluck parties."

Christine frowned uncertainly. "Gabrielle said that God loved me," She said. "She told me God and Jesus and all of the angels loved me, no matter what. She said I just had to be good and then I'll go to Heaven when I die." She giggled and bit her lip. "She said in Heaven, I can have as much candy as I want."

"There's no such _thing_ as Heaven!" Erik snapped, grabbing her arms. "Or God, or Jesus. Ok, well, maybe Jesus, but he wasn't the son of God, or anything like that. He was just some Jewish carpenter who managed to create a huge following. _There is no such thing as God_. Do you understand me?"

Christine looked down and shrugged sadly. She kind of liked the idea of a big man with a white beard in the clouds watching over her and loving her, no matter what. She liked to think about fat little babies with wings and clouds protecting her, and helping her make decisions. It seemed like a nice idea.

"But Gabrielle said-"

"_I_ said, Christine," Erik growled. "_I_ know what's best for you, sweetheart. I love you, I take care of you. Don't listen to Gabrielle."

"Ok," she whispered. But Christine liked Gabrielle. Gabrielle was always nice to her, and she always introduced her to people at church, and everyone at church seemed to like her. She was like their little pet, she was the palest one there. The old ladies with their big hats and lavender suits patted her hair and called her 'child.' The girls Gabrielle's age bumped hips with her and called her 'girl.' It almost felt like a family. She liked having a family.

"Come here and give Professor another kiss," He purred, gently pushing her head down, down, down.

She made a little noise and shook her head. "Noooo," She mumbled, pressing her face back into his neck. "I don't want to..."

He frowned and held her face between his hands. "I thought you liked it," He said. "You told me that you liked it."

She bit her lip and looked away. "I like going to church," She whispered. "I like listening to Gabrielle. I don't like swallowing it. It makes me tummy feel bad and my mouth taste bad. Please don't make me do it again, Professor." She looked up at him and blinked big, sad, blue eyes at him.

Erik swallowed and frowned. "I would never- make you do anything, Christine," He said hoarsely. "I never want to force you to do anything you don't want to do, I-I just..." He sighed and looked down. "I just don't want you listening to everything Gabrielle says! Churches _brainwash_ people, Christine! You're so young, and you're so trusting of everyone..." When she blinked her big eyes at him again dolefully, Erik suddenly felt like he was going to be sick.

"Will you marry me?" Christine asked into his neck. "Will you marry me, please?"

"Marry you?" Erik repeated in shock. "What? Christine, I'm already married! I can't marry you, what in the world's gotten into you?"

She started to cry. Erik looked down at her in shock. "But _I_ want to marry you," She sniffled. "Can't you just tell Mrs. Becky you like me better? Don't you like me better? Don't you want to marry me too?"

"Christine, it's not that simple!" He said impatiently. "I'm fifty years old, I've been married for longer than you've been alive, I- I _can't_ marry you! I have a life with Becky, I can't just end it like that!"

"You could have a life with _me_! I thought you loved me, Professor," She wailed, clutching his sleeves desperately. She started moving down his body and reaching between his legs. "I'll suck it again," She purred, kissing his chin. "And I'll swallow it too."

"Please, please-" Erik begged, holding her back by her hips and shaking his head. "Please, stop, Christine. I can't marry you, sweetheart. You're only seventeen years old, for Christ's sake! You're younger than my daughter!"

"But I want to marry you!" She sobbed. "You told me you loved me! You told me you loved me!" She suddenly hit his arm as hard as she could. He flinched, and she did it again and again and again. "I _hate_ you!" She screamed. "I don't love _you_! I _hate_ you!"

"Stop it!" He yelled, grabbing her fists. He was reminded of the car wash, and so he tried to subdue her as calmly as possible. She kicked him dangerously close to his groin, and he shook his head. It wouldn't work this time. "I'm taking you home," He snapped. "And I won't pick you up again until you can act like a normal human being!"

"YOU'RE JUST LIKE MY DADDY!" She screamed, finally kicking him right in the groin. He groaned and doubled over, and she took advantage of his temporary paralysis. She balled her hand into a fist and whacked him right on the top of his head, hard. He swore and tried to stop her, but his balls hurt far too much. He couldn't even move.

Christine crawled out of the bed and slipped on her Keds through sniffles and tears. She grabbed her sweater from the back of the chair, but she left her pink pea coat behind. Without a look behind her, she ran out of the little cabin and into the woods. The snow crunched beneath her sneakers and stuck to her hair and eyelashes. She saw Erik's car, and the dark outline of the road that led to the main road. With a resolute sniffle, she turned around and started running the other way. She wanted to run away so he would _never_ find her.

"Fuuuuuck!" Erik swore, still hunched over in bed. His little baby doll was stronger than she looked; his groin _ached_ something terrible. "Christine!" He called weakly. "Christine, honey, please, come back!" He rolled out of the bed with some difficulty and limped to his jeans. "Christine!" He tried again; all he heard was the front door slam. "Shit, shit, shit," He muttered, wincing as his jeans made contact with his certainly damaged testicles. He slipped on his own shoes and grabbed his coat; it was under the pink pea coat he bought her. He took that as well.

Christine huffed and puffed her way through the woods. It wasn't particularly dense or difficult to navigate, but it was past midnight, and she was cold, and she was angry. _She_ wanted to marry Professor. _She_ wanted to keep going to church with Gabrielle. _She_ wanted to live in the big red brick house with her Professor and sleep in the big, warm bed every night, and watch Zack's movies all day. He didn't even like Mrs. Becky anymore. She didn't understand; all he did was complain about her- why wouldn't he marry _her_, Christine, instead?

She stopped when she could no longer see the lights from the main road. It was completely dark, and it was still snowing. She heard a noise in the distance, and she hugged herself and started to whimper in fright. She just wanted to go back to bed with Professor, and let him kiss her and touch her, and comfort her until she felt better. Until she felt not so cold- it was _freezing_. Now she wished that she had brought her pink coat with her. Even if he did buy it for her.

She glanced down at her wrist and started to cry again when she saw her teddy bear bracelet sparkling in the faint, faint moonlight. She wished life didn't have to be so complicated; she hated feeling upset. She didn't know what to do, and on top of it, the cold was making her feel sick. She retched, and got down on her knees; after more retching, she threw up under a big bush. Gross. She kept crying.

"Christine!" Erik hissed, grabbing his cell phone and holding it up to give him some light. "Christine! Where the hell are you? Get back here!" He rubbed his arms through his coat and breathed in and out deeply. It was _freezing_! And Christine was somewhere out there, in her little white cardigan and paper thin t-shirt, catching a cold and the flu as he just stood around like an idiot waving his cell phone in the air.

Christine crawled on the snowy ground until she reached the little stream that ran through the woods. She dipped her hand in, and withdrew it with a hiss- it was almost painful, the water was so cold. She cupped her hands together anyway and splashed some water around and in her mouth, to wash away the icky throw up taste. She heard another noise behind her, but this time she ignored it. She didn't care if a bear ate her. She wished a bear would eat her.

"Christine?" Erik breathed in relief. The figure by the water ignored him and stayed hunched over the little stream. She was trembling- no, more than trembling. She was _shivering_ in the cold. "Christine..." Erik murmured, bending down on one knee and inching closer to her. "I brought your jacket, sweetheart. Will you put it on for me? Please?"

"Go away," She whispered. "I'm waiting for a bear to eat me."

"A bear?" Erik frowned and scratched his head. There were some things about Christine he would never understand. He supposed that was part of the tragic nature of their relationship. "Christine, you said yourself there are no more large animals in this forest. Now will you put on your jacket please?"

"I'd rather let a bear eat me," She snapped, scooting away from him. "Go _away_!"

"No!" He snapped back. "I'm not going away! I'm sorry, Christine, alright? I'm sorry! But you can't stay out here and sit in the snow, you're going to get hypothermia or something! So as soon as you put on your jacket and get in the car with me, I'll leave you alone and I won't talk to you. Is that what you want?"

"I just want to be away from _you_!" She hissed. "I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I _hate_ you." She moved away even more and buried her face in her knees. Erik heard sniffling. He caught a glimpse of her hands and swallowed nervously. Her fingertips were turning blue, they were so cold.

"Christine-" He tried again. This time he reached out and gently touched her shoulder. She flinched like he touched her with a red hot wire and angrily pushed his hand away.

"Go away!" She screamed, pressing her blue little fingers over her eyes. "Go AWAY! Get away from me! Please, just leave me alone! I HATE YOU!" She started to retch again, and Erik started in surprise. She bent over the stream, retching and coughing, and then she threw up violently, half collapsed in the snow from the cold and weakness.

"You're making yourself sick!" He protested angrily. "Look at you! You're going to hurt yourself, just put on the damn jacket and come with me!"

"NO!"

"Fine," He said. "You don't want to come yourself? Fine. I'll just have to drag you back to the car. Is that what you want?"

She said nothing, and just glared at him from the corner of her eye. When he started to reach for her, she swung her hand back and darted across the stream and further into the woods. Erik swore and started to chase her. It wasn't difficult; she was so cold and weak and disoriented that she couldn't run very fast at all. He grabbed her ponytail, and she let out a wail of pain and anger, still trying to fight him off. He didn't let her.

He picked her up completely and tossed her over his shoulder, and then laid her jacket on top of her, trying to keep her as warm as possible. "Let me down!" She shrieked, pounding his back. "Don't touch me! Put me down!"

"No!" He yelled. "You're going to kill yourself if I let you stay here! Now just hush and stay still, do you understand me?"

"You can't tell me what to do!" She screamed. She punched his ear and he stumbled; she managed to wriggle off of his shoulder and plant her feet on the snowy ground. "Stay away from me!" She wailed, pushing him back weakly. "I don't have to listen to you! I don't have to go with you!"

"Yes you do!" He roared, grabbing her wrist. "I'm responsible for you when you're with me! Now stop this right now!"

"YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" She screamed again. "I can do whatever I want!"

"No you can't, Christine!" He cried, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. "You can't! You're too young! Can't you understand that?"

"I WASN'T TOO YOUNG LAST NIGHT!"

_Smack!_

The sound echoed throughout the woods, like an accusation that lingered after it happened. _Slap, slap, slap_. Erik's hand stung; he hit her hard. He looked down and swallowed when he saw the pink his palm turned. There was a strangled sob in front of him, and he looked up at Christine, clutching her cheek with tears running freely down her face and what looked like blood running from her lip.

"I-I'm sorry-" He began hoarsely, lifting his hand awkwardly. She squeezed her eyes shut and gasped in terror. She shook her head wildly and started to sob loudly.

"P-please don't," She wailed, covering her face with both of her hands. "Please, please, please don't."

"Christine, I'm sorry," He breathed. "I didn't mean to, I just- I didn't mean to hit you-"

"Daddy." She whispered from behind her hands. "Daddy Daddy Daddy, you hit me just like Daddy hit me."

"Please put your coat on now," He begged pathetically. She obeyed him wordlessly, still covering her face and sobbing quietly. He tried to lead her back to the car, but when she tried to move she stumbled, so he lifted her up and carried her instead. All he heard was sobs in his coat collar; now he knew he would be sick tonight.

When they finally reached his car, he turned on the heated seats and blasted the heat in Christine's direction. Her fingers and lips were still blue, and the tip of her nose was an almost painful looking red. She just sat there and hiccuped mournfully, like a little ghost.

He back out of the path and made it to the main road. It was silent and almost completely deserted, save for the occasional sixteen wheeler. "I asked my Daddy if he would marry me too," Christine cried into her hands quietly. "And he did the same thing you did."

"Christine, you're sick," Meg declared, shaking the thermometer edgily. "What the hell were you doing out in the woods anyway? You're lucky you didn't catch pneumonia or bronchitis or something." Christine responded with a gut wrenching cough, and Meg stepped back uneasily. "Actually... on second though, we might want to get you to a doctor. When was the last time you went to the doctor, anyway?"

Christine shrugged listlessly. "I don't remember," She mumbled. "When Professor came and took me home."

"Yeah, well, that was the _hospital_," Meg muttered, scratching her head and grabbing a Yellow Pages from her desk. She flipped it open and started looking for doctors. "You're probably due for a checkup anyway... hey you're still seventeen, right?" She didn't wait for an answer and Christine didn't give her one. She just stared out the window mournfully. "Hmmm... I wonder if you can still go to a pediatrician... wonder if that would be cheaper."

Christine sighed loudly and laid down on her bed face down. She hadn't done anything but sleep, look out the window and let Meg take her temperature since Professor had dropped her off the night before. He hadn't called her or tried to see her or anything. Her lip was still swollen.

_"What happened to your lip?" Meg demanded when Christine stumbled into their room in the wee hours of the morning. "Where have you been? Who were you with?"_

_ "I bit it," Christine whispered faintly, sinking down into her bed slowly. "I bit my lip. I'm sorry I'm coming home so late."_

_ "Who were you with?" Meg demanded again, squinting at Christine with the uncanny ability to detect lies. "Why are you acting stranger than usual?"_

_ "I was with Professor!" Christine cried, grabbing her pillow and covering her head. "Now go away! Leave me alone!"_

_ Meg looked taken aback; Christine hardly ever shouted, especially not in actual anger. Whenever she did shout, it was usually because she was frustrated, or confused, but never angry. Christine never got angry. Meg didn't think she had it in her. "Alright," She shrugged, leaving the younger girl alone. "Goodnight."_

And now Christine was sick, and Meg was determined to take her to the doctor. It was high time she got a checkup, anyway. In fact, she probably didn't even have to go to a real doctor; all Meg had to do was take her to the school nurse and ask her to check for basic stuff and give her some cold medicine.

"Christine, come on," Meg suddenly said, decisively slipping into her sneakers. "We're gonna go to the nurse and get you checked out for a cold, ok?"

Christine sighed and shrugged again. Meg rolled her eyes; she couldn't take much more of this ridiculous melodrama between Christine and her Professor. It was always hot and cold between the two of them, hot and cold. Christine, as annoying as she could be, was excusable. She was seventeen years old. It was her first year of college. She was emotionally stunted. She was the victim of years of terrible abuse.

Professor Erik Destler was not. He was a middle aged man. He was married, and he was Christine's superior. Authority figures were not supposed to take advantage of those they were in charge of, or else Academia would crumble! The very essence of higher education depended on people like Professor Erik Destler not doing what he was doing.

But it wasn't that simple. Meg massaged her temples. Erik Destler was not a bad man. When things were going well between them, Meg had never seen Christine happier. He helped her with her homework, he helped her get through Harry Potter, and he took care of her. Christine wore a scarf and gloves when she went out with her Professor. When she went out with Raoul, she just wore a t-shirt.

The infirmary was close, in just the next building. The nurse was there, and it was empty except for a lone sophomore clearing out the condom bowl. When Meg showed up with Christine in tow, the nurse smiled broadly and stood up. "Hello dears," She said warmly. "Condoms?"

Meg smiled awkwardly and pushed Christine forward. "Not today, thank you. May I talk to you in private for a minute please?"

The nurse nodded and led Meg to the next room, with the little doctor beds and scales. "What's the problem, dear?" She asked in concern. "Is everything alright with you and Christine?"

Meg massaged her temples and sighed. "Christine's having a little bit of a rough time," She waffled. "And I've been worried about... some things. Do you think you could like, do some checks on her? You know..." She said significantly. "To check for... _you know_."

The nurse nodded knowingly and patted Meg's shoulder. "Of course, dear. I'll get the easiest one first- go and call her in here, will you?" She pushed Meg forward and pulled out a small cup and unopened box from the medical cabinet.

Christine came in with hollow eyes and a sad little pout on her sleepy face. "Hello Christine!" The nurse greeted her brightly. "Will you do me a favor and just pee in this little cup please? HEre you go, the bathroom's right here-"

"Pee in the cup?" Christine wrinkled her nose. "Why?"

"We just want to check up on you, alright? Now go on, if you need some water, here you are..." The nurse pushed another little cup of water in her hands and closed the bathroom door behind her. She turned to Meg with a serious expression. "I can check for other things too, but it's going to take longer to get the results. Is she seeing anyone?"

Meg avoided her eyes and scratched her head. "Well, _sort_ of... it's hard to explain, see, and um-"

"Is it a professor?" The nurse asked grimly.

Meg paled. "Um- n-no..."

"It's alright dear, I won't say anything." The nurse sighed. "It always is, with girls like Christine. I can only imagine who it is. Is he married?"

Meg nodded wearily. "Married, kids, the whole nine yards," She sighed. "I just don't know what-"

"I'm done," Christine mumbled softly, stepping out of the bathroom. "I peed in the cup. Ew."

"Well done, Christine!" The nurse exclaimed happily. She discreetly took the cup and the little box and started bustling away with her back to the girls. When she was done, she turned back to them with an anxious smile. "We'll just have to wait a moment, mm?"

Christine sighed and wandered over to a little armchair. Professor hadn't called her. Raoul hadn't called her. Nobody called her. Meg only cared about her reading Harry Potter. Christine just wanted to sleep.

Meg stood by the nurse anxiously, biting her thumbnail to the skin. She couldn't take another second of this. The suspense was killing her. Killing her. She was about to yak herself.

The nurse finally turned back and faced Christine with a pale face. "Well, Christine," She said hoarsely. "... congratulations."

Meg fainted.


	29. Revelations, Confessions, and Decisions

"You are going to sit on that bed and _stay_ there, got it?" Meg demanded hysterically as she pushed Christine inside of their dorm. "And if I come back and you've moved an inch, I swear to God I'll cut off your fingers and _eat them_!" She finished with a crazed glare and another push on the bed.

Christine stared at her nervously. "What's the matter?" She asked innocently. "Why are you mad?"

"BECAUSE SOMETHING REALLY REALLY BAD HAPPENED, OK?" Meg screamed. "And you're going to be in big trouble! So I want you to _stay_ there, and don't move, don't call anyone, don't open the door, nothing." She tossed Harry Potter on the bed, and wiped her forehead. "Read this, and wait for me. Ok?"

Christine nodded uncertainly and crawled under the covers with her book. Meg slammed the door behind her, and Christine was alone. She hated being alone. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and wished someone would call her. Like magic, the phone lit up and started vibrating.

_Professor, Professor, Professor._

Christine's heart stopped. Or at least it felt like it did. She faintly touched her lip and ran her tongue over the swollen side; it tasted metallic. With trembling hands, she clicked 'send' and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?"

"Christine?" Erik crooned softly. "Are you alright?"

Tears welled up in her eyes and she twisted her fingers together. "Why are you calling me?" She sniffed uncertainly. "We don't like each other anymore."

"No, no," Erik whispered. "I love you, Christine. I love you- I'm so sorry I didn't call, but I felt awful about what happened, and it's difficult with Becky, and-"

"You hit me." She said plaintively. "You hurt me. My lip is swollen."

"I'm sorry," He croaked. "I just- I lost control, Christine- I didn't mean to hurt you! I promise I'll never, ever do it again, sweetheart, I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

Christine sniffled again and wiped her eyes. Her head hurt and she was hungry and she felt so, so tired. There was no way she could read Harry in this condition, when she felt so awful. She wondered if it was against the rules to talk to Professor if _he_ was the one who called _her_. She opened her mouth to respond.

_Call waiting. Call waiting. Call waiting._

"Damn," Erik muttered under his breath. He held his phone away from his face and squinted at the screen. _Call waiting. Unknown number._ The first thing he though of was Alex. What if it was Alex calling him, from some pay phone in the dangerous city of New York? What if she was in trouble and she couldn't use her cell phone for some reason? "Christine, I'm sorry, can I call you back in five minutes? Someone else is calling me and I really have to take it."

Her mouth was still open in anticipation of giving him her answer. _Will you forgive me?_ Her stomach rumbled and she felt another pang in her head. What could she say? "Ok," She whispered. She heard a beep on the other end of the line, and she knew he had hung up.

Erik scratched his head as he regarded his phone. "Hello?" He answered cautiously. "Who is this?"

"This is Megan Giry, asshole!" Meg spat from the other line. "Remember me? I'm Christine's roommate! Christine! The one you got PREGNANT! Remember her?"

Erik paled and he felt his heart speed up. Meg. It was Meg, not Alex. Meg was Christine roommate. Christine was pregnant. _Christine was PREGNANT?_ "Wh-w-w-ait, what are y-you-"

"Meet me at the park on the corner of High Street in twenty minutes." _Beep._

Erik couldn't remember ever driving as quickly and recklessly as he did after he got that phone call. Becky was in the kitchen; he didn't even bother saying goodbye. He knew all he would get was a sound and thorough tongue lashing, and not the fun kind either. He just jumped into his car and sped the the park _fast_.

He was there in ten minutes. He locked the doors and jogged inside, searching for a flash of curly brown hair or straight blonde hair, or both. The panic hadn't set in yet. He was still prepared to believe that he had simply heard an invitation for 'eggplant' and not that his seventeen year old mistress was 'pregnant.' It wasn't possible. It wasn't. If there was a God and if they lived in a functional universe, there was no way it was possible. No God in his right mind would trust Christine, or her uterus for that matter, with a baby. IMPOSSIBLE!

"Professor Destler?" A female voice came from behind him. Erik's heart felt like stopping again and he spun around nervously. A soft, thin hand met his mask, hard, and knocked it off his face, into his nose, and onto the floor. His hands flew up to protect himself, but the first hand's twin suddenly came up from the other side and slapped the unscarred half of his face as well.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" He swore, holding his nose and trying to cover his scarred half at the same time. "What the hell! Stop hitting me!"

"ASSHOLE!" Meg yelled, throwing a punch into his stomach. "You fucking idiot! You're three times older than me, and I have ten times more common sense. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Please!" Erik cried, holding up his hands and averting his gaze so she wouldn't see the scars. "Stop _hitting_ me!"

"Why should I?" Meg challenged. "You hit Christine! No, she didn't say anything-" She snarled when he looked up at her in shock. "She would never say anything, she never does say anything! Every time she comes homes with a migraine, or a new bruise, or a bloody ear, or a _bloody lip_- no, she never says anything! She doesn't have to!"

"I never meant to hurt her-" Erik held up his hands in defense as he pleaded with the lithe ballerina in front of him. "I swear, it was a mistake-"

"I don't care what the fuck it was!" Meg yelled. "I don't care if you have an undiagnosed case of schizophrenia and the devil told you to hit her! She came home with a swollen cheek and a busted lip after spending the night doing God knows what in that God-forsaken woods! Are you crazy? It's NEGATIVE TWO DEGREES OUTSIDE!" Almost to help prove her point, a strong burst of wind suddenly came blowing around the park, bringing powdery, fluffy flakes of snow with it. Meg's cheeks and nose were red, just like Christine's.

"Well, guess what, _Professor_," Meg hissed. "Christine is _pregnant_. Preg-nant. With a _baby_. What-the-fuck-is-WRONG-with-you?" She threw her hands up in the air and shook her head helplessly. "Haven't you heard of Jocelyn Elders?"

"What do you mean, Christine is pregnant?" Erik asked with a dry mouth. He still hadn't bent down to retrieve his mask; he couldn't, he was paralyzed. "How do you know that?"

"I took her to the nurse today," Meg explained quietly. "Because she had a fever from being out in the snow all night. I asked the nurse to give her a test, and it came back positive. She's pregnant, and you better do something about it quick."

"Oh my God," Erik breathed. He covered his face with his hands and held his breath. "But- birth control, she- she told me she was on birth control-"

"She doesn't know what birth control is!" Meg screamed. She grabbed something out of her purse and threw it at his chest. "_This_ is what she thought she was supposed to be taking! Do you see this?" It was the bottle of gummy bear vitamins. "They're GUMMY BEARS!"

"Stop screaming at me!" Erik screamed. He grabbed the roots of his hair and sucked in a deep breath. "I can't think if you keep screaming!"

"You got my best friend pregnant!" Meg cried. "You took advantage of her, like every single man she's ever known! You're just like all of them! This is why I _hate_ men!" She wiped her eyes and grabbed the roots of her own hair. "This is why I'm a lesbian!"

"It's not my fault you're a lesbian!" Erik snapped.

"But it's your fault she's pregnant!" Meg heaved a great big sigh and slumped into the bench behind her. "You have to do something about this, quickly. I have no idea how far along she is- she could be months, for all I know, she's such a fucking anorexic, it's impossible to tell." She leaned her chin into her hands and looked up at him. "She can't keep this baby."

"I- don't think..." Erik started pacing. He covered his face and breathed in and out deeply, as he paced back and forth in front of Meg. "I have to think. I need time to think. I need more time."

"You don't have more time!" Meg cried. "Don't you get it? You _don't have time_. You have to do something _now_, before it's too late! Before it's too late for Christine! Do you know what having a baby would do to her? She's crazy enough as it is!"

"What are you saying?" Erik asked pathetically. "An abortion?"

"No- fucking- duh!" Meg threw up her hands. "Do you have a better idea? Maybe your wife can adopt the baby! Or your daughter, haha, she's older than Christine anyway!"

"Stop it!" Erik shouted. "I know I screwed up? Ok? Ok? I know!"

"You didn't _screw up_, you're two steps away from _ruining_ a girl's life!" Meg snapped. "You know it's practically a miracle that Christine even made it to college at all? It's incredible that she even graduated from high school! She might be a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but she's made it this far, and now you're about to ruin everything!"

"It's not like I raped her!" Erik cried defensively. "I didn't make the baby myself!"

Meg jumped to her feet and slapped him again. Hard. "How can you be so _stupid_?" She hissed, narrowing her eyes angrily. He stepped back and held up his hands defensively. She caught sight of his scars and involuntarily stepped back as well. They were pretty ugly. "Has Christine seen that?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Erik muttered bitterly, bending down and grabbing his mask finally. "She's seen it."

"She show you the scar on her back?" Meg asked, calming down enough to sit back on the bench. She even moved over a little bit to give him room to sit. "She only shows it to people she really likes, it's like her special treat or something."

"She showed me," Erik said quietly. "How did she get it?"

Meg turned to Erik and squinted at him thoughtfully. "You don't really know anything about her at all, do you?" She wondered sadly. "You don't know... where she was born, where she went to school- nothing."

"No, I don't," Erik agreed. "I hardly know anything about her. Every time I try to ask her about her parents, she- she gets angry, she gets violent, she- clams up, won't talk about it. She's never told me anything about her childhood, or where she grew up. Nothing."

"You know why?" Meg asked dully.

Erik regarded her uncertainly. He couldn't say he didn't have suspicions. He couldn't say certain thoughts had never crossed his mind before; thoughts that made him shiver and want to puke. He had several theories about Christine, each one more far fetched than the last. He could only hope they were all wrong.

"Her father-" He began with a nasty taste in his mouth. "He didn't- did he-"

"Christine's father," Meg began bitterly. "Is not dead. Neither is her mother, for that matter. They live a very comfortable life in upstate New York, where I can only assume none of their friends know about their daughter Christine." She swallowed and shook her head. "Christine is their dirty little secret."

Erik blinked once, and then he blinked twice. "Wait, what?" He asked, confused. "But Christine _told_ me they were dead-"

"That's because she thinks they are," Meg shrugged. "She has no idea they're still alive. If she knew-" Meg exhaled, and a cloud of fog appeared in front of her. "She'd probably go off the deep end."

"Her parents... are still alive?" Erik repeated incredulously. "But why does she think they're dead? Who told her that? Why is she their dirty little secret?"

"Why do you think?" Meg hissed, suddenly getting off the bench and pacing in front of it. "Why do you think everyone told her her parents were dead? So she wouldn't question it when they took her out of their custody! So she wouldn't go looking for them after they took her away! To protect her!"

Erik closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. This was too much information in one day; he wasn't sure how much more he could handle. He prayed that his heart could withstand any more revelations without giving out on him. "Why..." He began, trying to keep his voice calm and steady. "Was she taken out of her parents' custody?"

"Why do children get taken out of their parents' custody, Professor?" Meg asked in a low voice. "You tell _me_."

"P-poor," Erik guessed desperately. "Um, poverty, they couldn't afford-"

Meg ticked off a finger and tapped her foot. "Guess again," She said simply. "Christine's not paying for college herself; money has never been a problem for these people. Keep going."

"Drugs?" He continued weakly. "They were into drugs, drug addicts, crack, heroin-"

"Probably recreational users, but no, not addicts," Meg replied sharply. "You're getting there, just keep thinking of all the stuff they teach at all of those seminars, all of those brochures about what to look out for in kids..."

"Neglect." Erik said hoarsely. "They were neglectful. They didn't pay attention to her, they let her run wild, that's why she's so-" He closed his eyes and swallowed with difficulty. "That's why she is the way she is, they never taught her self control-"

"You're getting warm," Meg snarled. She was red in the face, and Erik wasn't sure if it was from the cold, anger from talking about Christine's parents, anger from talking to him, or a mixture of it all. He scooted backwards on the bench nervously.

He closed his eyes again and clenched his fists in his pockets. His stomach turned ominously, and he felt the beginning pangs of a migraine starting in the back of his neck. _Jesus Christ, can we stop this sick game? Can't we just pretend there's nothing wrong with her...?_ "I- they... abuse," He choked. "Child abuse. That's how she got that scar, they were overly aggressive, they hit her, beat her, is that it? Is that it? Just _tell_ me, dammit! What did they do to her?" He exploded, lurching up from the bench and grabbing Meg's shoulders roughly.

She curled her lip and shoved him backwards without skipping a beat. "Yes, they beat her!" She yelled. "That's it, Professor, that's why she has that scar on her back, and why she always came to school with bruises and cuts. But do you think that's it? You think that's all they did?" She got right in Erik face and grabbed his coat the way he had grabbed hers. "Her dad _raped_ her! He raped his own daughter, that sick bastard!" She pushed back and stepped away with a hand on her forehead.

"Jesus Christ-" Erik swore, feeling his stomach lurch again. "No-"

"_Yes_, he raped her, and he forced her, and he did disgusting things to her," Meg cried. "Do you watch Law and Order? Hmm? Special Victims Unit? Well, just picture the worst episode you can think of and multiply it by ten. That's what happened to Christine; she's been having sex since she was two!"

"Stop it," Erik begged, covering his mouth when his stomach made an ominous growling noise. "Just stop it- I- I don't want to know-"

"You don't want to know?" She growled. "Well this is the price you have to pay for your actions, Professor. You want to play slap and tickle with Christine? Well, it's only fair that you know how she became your little sex kitten. Do you want to know what he did to her? Hmm? My mom was her social worker, I know it all, I've seen the files-"

"Stop it!" Erik begged again. "Please, stop, I don't want to hear this-"

"Age two," Meg began reciting hysterically. "Still not potty trained; raped by her own father. Mother was out food shopping."

"Shut up!" Erik yelled. "Just shut up-"

"Age four- Daddy invites his friends over and introduces them all to his little baby, Christine Olympia, just like the doll! Christine is the life of their little party; Mother was out food shopping." Meg hissed, stepping closer and closer to Erik with each incident she recited. "Age seven, Mommy gets jealous of the attention her _daughter_ gets from Daddy! Takes a knife from the kitchen and now Christine has a _long_ scar she shows to men like you in bed."

"Her _mother_ did that to her?" Erik repeated faintly. "That scar? Her mother?"

"Her mother hates her," Meg said quietly. "She's always hated her; her father was the one who changed her, fed her, bathed her, took her to school, made her lunch, all of that. Her mother resented it, I guess, all of the attention Christine got when she was born."

"Wait- her father _took_ care of her?" Erik demanded harshly. "But he _raped_ her, he abused her-"

"And Christine still loves him," Meg said with a weary shrug. "He was the only person she had, until they finally took her away from him. She knew her mother... was 'distant', and since she grew up knowing only..."

"That sex was love," Erik finished bitterly. "It became normal to her. No, not became, it just was- is, natural for her. Sex _is_ love."

"She won't ever change," Meg said coldly. She stated it like it was an absolutely invariable fact, like the sun rising every morning. "He's warped her so much- he babied her all of her life, until they took her away and she came to live with us. She was like a _baby_, she couldn't do anything by herself. It was the weirdest thing, living with this overly sexual... baby."

Meg sighed loudly and sat down on the bench. "Everyone said her parents died in a car accident. They didn't want to press charges, and the judge agreed to let her parents off the hook if they promised to pay child support until she turned eighteen and pay for college too." She shrugged. "I don't know the whole story- I don't how the money works. I just know that they have enough of it to keep her hidden away here, while they just hang out and forget it all happened."

Erik stood in front of the bench, deep in thought. There was so much information he had yet to process, but it was overwhelming, it felt impossible. "So... what am I going to do?" He asked faintly. He let his head fall into his hands and he grabbed two handfuls of his hair by the roots. "Jesus Christ... what have I done?"

"Nadir, I have to ask you something."

"No, you cannot share my pot." Nadir said simply, propping his feet up on his desk and leaning back in his roller chair. "I'll sell you some, but I've been giving it away for free way too much- these kids think they can get everything for free nowadays. So I'll sell you some, but I'm not giving you anything for free. Sorry."

"I don't want any marijuana!" Erik hissed hysterically. "This isn't about your stupid drugs! This is serious!"

"Hey, hey, cool it corny," Nadir said soothingly. "What's the gas, pops?"

"I have to talk to you," Erik said hoarsely. "This is very important, Nadir- please. May I invite you out for a coffee to discuss it?"

"Oh, well-" Nadir fluttered his eyelashes and clasped his hands together in mock excitement. "If you'll take me out for _coffee_, dahling, that sounds absolutely divine! Shall I have my driver Manuel take us then?"

"Nadir, I need your word that whatever I say to you right now will stay strictly between you and I," Erik began in a low voice. "Not even Becky- especially not Becky- can know about this. Do you understand?"

Nadir's eyes widened as he took a sip of his chai tea latte. "You must've done something really bad, dude," He commented. "What, did you forget to do the laundry this weekend or something?"

"Stop joking!" Erik cried in a strangled whisper. "This isn't funny! This is serious!"

Nadir sighed and put his tea down. "Ok, ok, I'm listening. I'm listening. I'm serious. Do you see my face? See? It's a serious face, ok? Now first tell me- have you done something illegal?"

Erik swallowed and fiddled with his fingers. "I don't think it's technically illegal in the state of Connecticut... but I'm not sure- it depends on each state."

Nadir furrowed his brow and scratched his head. "Uh, ok. So you did something that may or may not be illegal, depending on what state you live in. Got it. Is this something that Becky would forgive or not forgive?"

Erik felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead and he clenched his fists desperately. "Oh God," He squeaked. "Becky would never forgive me. I can't- she cannot find out, she can't, she would-" His voice choked up and he wiped his forehead. "She would divorce me, I know it. She would- she would take Zack away, she wouldn't let me see him, she wouldn't let me see Alex! She would-"

"Ok, rein it in there, partner," Nadir said cautiously. "So... Becky would be mad. Very very mad. Jesus Christ, Erik, what did you do?"

"I had an affair!" Erik blurted. "I had an affair, I cheated on my wife! Ok? That's what I did! I cheated on my wife!"

Nadir's eyes widened and he sat back in his chair. The barista behind the counter called out an order and two people ran up to take it. He could faintly hear them arguing over it in the background. "You what?" He asked in a low voice.

Erik covered his face with his hands and blinked frantically. "I had an affair," He repeated in a whisper. "With someone else. I cheated on my wife."

"You cheated on Becky?" Nadir demanded in a low hiss. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you do something like that, Erik? What the hell is wrong with you? Who is she? Are you still seeing her? What the _fuck_?"

"She's... my student," Erik breathed.

Nadir's eyes widened to the size of saucers and he slammed his hands on the table. The two women arguing over the pumpkin latte stopped arguing and looked over in their direction. "You're sleeping with your student?" Nadir demanded. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Shhh!" Erik begged frantically, reaching over the table and fluttering his hands anxiously. "Would you be quiet? Sit down!"

Nadir sat down cautiously, glaring at Erik with daggers in his eyes. "That's real cut rate, pops. That's a real drag. What in God's fucking universe would make you have a fucking affair with a fucking student? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Nadir, please," Erik pleaded. "Watch your language, there are children near by."

"That's an off-time jive, Jack!" Nadir snapped. "You can tap a pigeon on your lilly whites and then tell me not to say the fucking f word? Who is she? How old is she? Are you still seeing her? What's the deal, Ally McBeal?"

Erik blinked briefly. He always needed time to understand what Nadir was saying, even when they were younger together. It felt like he was speaking another language sometimes. "I- she's my student, and y-yes, I'm still seeing her, but I can't leave Becky-"

"You're damn straight you can't, you're going to tell her everything and then you're going to wait for her to leave you!" Nadir growled. "I guess this is how your neat little Academia world works, huh? You can poo poo me and my green smoking ways, but then go and tap all the pretty little girls in your class, is that it? Just make sure you're home in time for your cordon bleu? Sick-pretentious-fuck. How old is this girl?"

"She's seventeen," Erik confessed.

"SEVENTEEN!" Nadir bellowed. He slammed his hands on the table again and jumped up out of his seat. A passing barista with a spray bottle of Clorox and wash rag in one hand stopped by and frowned in concern. "Is everything alright, sir?" She asked nervously.

"How old are you?" Nadir demanded suddenly.

"I- I'm nineteen, sir," She stammered. "My birthday's next month."

"Nineteen!" He bellowed. He pointed to her and glared at Erik. "She nineteen!" He repeated. "She's a fucking kid! And you're telling me this girl you've been screwing is _seventeen_?"

Erik paled as several people turned to stare. The poor barista was blushing a dark red and eyeing Erik and Nadir nervously, even holding her Clorox bottle in front of her chest in protection. "Please, just ignore him," Erik laughed weakly. "He's very excitable, he's just- he was a pseudo-revolutionary in his youth, you see..."

"I know who it is!" Nadir said suddenly with a snap of his fingers. He narrowed his eyes and pointed right at Erik's nose. "It's that kid in your English class, isn't it? The one with the curly hair? _Christine_! Jesus Christ, you sick fuck!"

Erik swallowed and quickly gathered up both coffees and started making his way to the door. A slew of eyes followed him accusingly and he hurried through the door without a backward glance to make sure Nadir was following him. He didn't have to; his friend's voice carried easily into the next street.

"Ok, wait," Nadir said suddenly, holding out his hand and grabbing a joint from his pocket. He lit it up and started tapping his foot impatiently. "Tell me one thing. You better answer this right, pops, or our friendship runs out right here."

Erik sighed and nodded. "Yes?" He replied weakly.

"Erik, tell me you didn't force this kid to do anything," Nadir said seriously, pulling his joint away from his lips. "Because I swear to Buddha, if you did-"

"I never forced her to do anything!" Erik cried, angrily dumping his coffee in the nearby trash can. "I _love_ her!" They started walking, first in silence, and then with the accompaniment of Nadir's whistling. Erik could still feel the headache behind his temples; it hadn't gone away since he got the news of Christine's pregnancy. "Nadir, she's pregnant," Erik said softly. "I got her pregnant."

Nadir blew out a smoke circle and promptly breathed in another puff of smoke. "Jesus Henry Christ," He whispered again. "You really dug yourself into the shit hole this time, didn't you? You can't tell Becky; not if you want your marriage to last. What are you going to do?"

Erik felt his throat close up and his heart beat faster. He thought about Christine pregnant, with a tiny little body and a little baby bump nine months later. He thought about Christine with a little baby with curly brown hair and mismatched eyes, rocking it to sleep after finishing her homework.

Except Christine didn't do her homework. Christine didn't even know the mechanics of making a baby; if he told her where it would come out of, she would have another panic attack. If her baby cried, she wouldn't know what to do. She would get upset and start crying too. A baby would ruin the fragile little glass bubble that she had so carefully constructed for herself over the years, to keep out the scary, ugly things she didn't understand. A baby would fall under the category of scary and ugly to her.

"I have to take her to get an abortion," Erik breathed. "That's the only thing I can do."


	30. Be My Good Girl

"Professor," Christine said in a shaky voice. "I forgive you."

"Christine?" Erik frowned in confusion. He ran his hand through his hair and breathed in a shaky breath. "Christine, darling, what are you talking about? I don't understand."

"About hitting me," She explained in a whisper. "In the forrest? Remember? You asked me to forgive you but then you had to go- because someone else was calling you, and you never called me back, but I thought about it and I didn't want you to think I didn't forgive you, so I called you back instead." He heard her suck in a deep breath, and then ask him uncertainly, "Professor?"

"Christine-" Erik's voice broke and he knew if he stayed on the phone with her much longer that he would crack. "Honey, can I come to see you? In your dorm room? Is Meg there?"

"Um... Meg is here. She just got here," Christine bit her lip and glanced at her roommate, who was dully staring out the window. "I think she's sick. She's acting weird. But you can come over anyway, she won't mind." Her face brightened and she giggled. "Are you going to bring me a present?"

"Y-yes, honey, I'll bring you a present, ok?" Erik whispered. "I love you, Christine. You know I love you, right?"

"I love you too," She beamed into the phone. She could feel her cheeks getting warm from blushing, and a giggle bubbling up inside of her, in her chest. She wanted to be quiet, but she couldn't help it; when she burst out laughing, Meg glared at her.

"What's so funny?" Erik asked with a dull smile. "Why are you laughing?"

"I don't know!" She giggled, covering her mouth to stifle them. "I just can't help it!"

"Ok, sweetheart," Erik smiled faintly. "Be good with Meg, alright? Be nice to her. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

After Christine hung up the phone, Meg turned to her with a sigh and a weary expression on her face. "Christine," She began gently. "Do you have any idea how babies are made? Or how someone has a baby? How long it takes, where it comes out of, how to feed a baby? Anything?"

Christine blinked and bit her lip. "When a boy and a girl love each other, they make a baby," She replied uncertainly. "The baby comes out of here." She pointed to her bellybutton. "Right?"

Meg shook her head. "Christine, it is very easy to make a baby. It's too easy. All you have to do is have sex to make a baby!"

Christine laughed and shook her head. "But I do that all the time and I don't have a baby!" She insisted.

Meg closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. "You know those vitamins you were taking? The ones you ran out of? The little white ones in the circle case?" Christine nodded. "Those were birth control pills. They stop your body from making a baby, and when you stop taking them, your body can make a baby again. Do you understand?"

"But I'm still taking vitamins now," Christine insisted. "They just taste better."

"But the other ones were not vitamins, Christine!" Meg said, raising her voice slightly. "They weren't vitamins! Ok? The things you're taking now are vitamins, but they're not birth control pills. There's a difference. Vitamins don't stop you from making a baby!"

"But- why did you tell me they were vitamins?" Christine sniffled in confusion. Meg was upsetting her. She hated getting upset. This was confusing and being confused made her upset.

"I don't know!" Meg wailed. She pressed her face into her hands and exhaled. "Because we were trying to protect you. Shelter you. Not confuse you. It was a bad idea! I know that. I don't know why we did it."

"So..." Christine blinked and furrowed her brow. Meg could practically see the wheels in her head turning. "If I'm not taking the birth control pills... I can have a baby?"

"Not just you can have a baby!" Meg cried in distress. "You ar-"

Knock knock knock!

"Coming!" Christine jumped up off her bed and ran to the door. Erik was standing on the other side, with a Sephora bag in one hand and a bouquet of pink roses in the other. "Professor!" She squealed, pulling him inside. "Is that for me?"

"Yes, it's for you," He smiled. She let him kiss her forehead and his heart ached when his lips touched her porcelain skin. It was smooth and baby soft... he wondered if her baby would have the same skin as her.

"Come and sit down with me," She urged, pulling his hand and eyeing the bag greedily. "Meg is here- she's over there." She tiptoed to reach his face and puckered her lips expectantly. "Kiss," She murmured demurely, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously. "Kiss kiss."

Erik swallowed and pecked her back, keeping one eye open and trained on Meg warily. "Maybe this isn't the best place to talk..." He said uneasily, guiltily trying to avoid Meg's stare. "Ms. Giry is probably tired- we should let her rest. I can take you to- um..." He furrowed his brow, but before he could speak again, Meg snapped up from her bed and grabbed her jacket.

"Well, you can't take her home if your wife is there!" Meg hissed, pushing past him angrily. "And if you take her to the damn cabin, she'll just get sick again!" Almost on cue, Christine sneezed delicately.

"Meg, where are the tissues?" She wondered, completely oblivious to the tension between Erik and Meg. "They're not in my bed."

Meg sighed and gestured to Christine with another glare in Erik's direction. "Do you see what you've done?" She asked in a low voice. "She's inept. That's the only word I can think of to describe her!"

"Me-eg!" Christine called, busily searching under her bed for the tissue box. "Where did you put the tissues? They're gone!"

"They're next to my bed, Christine," Meg said weakly. "Right on the floor. See them? Good girl. I'm going to Sauna's for a little while to give you and your um, Professor a little time to talk. See you later!" She quickly grabbed her cell phone and slammed the door behind her.

"I think she's mad at me," Christine commented, bringing a tissue up to her nose and blowing. "I wonder what I did this time."

"It's- it's not what you did, Christine," Erik began haltingly. "It's what I did- to you. Can we sit down, sweetheart? Do you want to see your present?" He led them to her bed and gave her the black and white striped bag. She beamed and snatched it away eagerly.

"Ooh!" She purred. "Lipgloss! Nail polish! Perfume!" She looked up at Erik with the same goofy smile on her face and clapped her hands together. "Thank you Professor! I love it." She set it aside gently and promptly climbed into his lap, ready for a kiss. "Now I'll give you a present," She giggled. Her left hand snaked its way down his shoulder, biceps, chest, tummy, and then finally stopped. "Do you want me to suck it before or after?" She mumbled with hooded eyes.

"Christine, n-no," Erik shook his head and moved her hand away from the danger zones. "Not today, sweetheart. I have to talk to you."

"But we can talk later!" She whined, grinding herself on his thigh. He noticed and grabbed her hips firmly to keep her still. She wriggled in annoyance and finally crossed her arms petulantly. "Why is everyone being so annoying lately?" She demanded. "Why can't we do it? I want to do it!"

"Christine," Erik began in an even voice. "Listen to me. This is very serious, and you have to listen closely, alright? You're going to have to go to the doctor's office. I'm going to take you there, and they're going to take care of a big mistake I made, ok?"

"A big mistake?" She repeated with wide eyes. "What's the big mistake?"

He swallowed and weighed his options. He had to tell her; there was no way around it. He knew they would never perform an abortion on someone who didn't even know they were pregnant. Who didn't even know what an abortion was! "Christine, you're pregnant." He said hoarsely.

She blinked several times and reached up to scratch her head. "Huh?"

He moved her off of his lap and onto the bed next to him. "I made you pregnant," He repeated slowly, gently bringing his hand to rest on her belly. "There's a baby in here, sweetheart."

"A baby?" She repeated. She blinked again and her eyes followed his hands to her tummy. "A baby? A baby in my tummy?"

Erik's eyes burned and he looked away. If he clenched down on his teeth hard enough, he could stay calm. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut and his teeth clenched together, and he knew he would be able to make it through anything they would have to face. How was he going to explain abortion to her?

"There's a baby in my tummy?" Christine giggled. "A little tiny teensy weensy baby... Professor?"

He grunted, while still looking away. He couldn't look at her. If he looked at her, he would see a million things he didn't want to see. He would see her when she was a baby, and he would see her mother hating her. He would see her father raping her. He would see her not knowing what to do, or even what being raped was. He would see her father's friends sharing her. He would see a baby that had curly brown hair and mismatched eyes. He would see _Christine_. All of the things that were Christine, he would see.

"Is is a baby girl or a baby boy?" She wondered innocently. "Is the baby going to live here?" She glanced around the eight by ten room full of Barbie dolls and stuffed animals and she wrinkled her nose. "When did you put the baby inside of my tummy?" Suddenly her eyes widened and she slapped a palm to her mouth. "Meg said you could make a baby just by having sex! Is that how you did it?"

"Christine-" Erik choked, gently covering her mouth with his palm. "Shh, hush. You- you're not going to have the baby. The baby's not going to live here, and we won't know if it's a boy or a girl. We're going to go to the doctor's office and everything will be taken care of, ok?" He brought her head beneath his chin and kissed her forehead. "Don't worry about anything, it will all be over soon."

She pulled away and wrinkled her nose again. "I'm not going to have the baby?" She asked. "But you just told me there's a baby in my tummy. Where's it gonna go?"

"Christine, when we go to the doctor," Erik explained hoarsely. "They're going to take the baby out. After we leave the doctor, there won't be any more baby. After we go to the doctor, we can all just forget about this, and you can go back on your pills-" He interrupted himself by kissing her forehead and squeezing her tightly. "And you won't have to worry about any more babies, ok?"

She kept frowning. "Why is there going to be no more baby? What's the matter with the baby? You don't like babies?"

"Of course- I love babies," Erik insisted helplessly. "There's- there's nothing the matter with the baby, you just can't have it Christine, do you understand?"

She shook her head. "No." She replied simply. "If you like babies, why don't you want this baby?" She pointed to her stomach in confusion. A smile suddenly lit up her face and she leaned forward and pecked his lips happily. "It's _our_ baby! Right?"

"Hush," He murmured, holding out his arms. "Just hush." He pulled her against his chest pressed his lips to her forehead. He knew it was the only way he would be able to silence her questions about the baby that would be 'taken out' by the doctor. He remembered when Becky found out she was pregnant with Zack; he had no idea what to do. He just stared at her like she hit him with a pie in the face.

_"What?" He asked with wide eyes. He set aside the papers he was grading and removed his glasses slowly. "Pregnant? Now? But how? You're-" _

_ "Old?" Becky hissed. "I'm not that old, Erik. I can still have babies!"_

_ "W-well, obviously," He spluttered, gesturing to the pregnancy test she placed on his desk. "I just- I- I mean, it's shocking news, Becky, hello! You've just caught me a little off guard here!" He rubbed his eyes and slapped his hand to his forehead. "Jesus Christ, Becky!" He cried. "Why the hell'd you go and do that for?"_

_ "Erik!" Becky rolled her eyes and slapped the back of his head. "I didn't do it myself, you idiot. You're the one who fertilized them!" She pointed to her stomach with raised eyebrows. "Thanks a lot, Hefner!"_

_ "Me?" He demanded. "Fertilized what? I don't remember fertilizing anything!"_

_ "The eggs, you moron," Becky sighed. She leaned against the side of his desk, ignoring Erik's grimace- it was an antique- and massaging her temples. "I can't believe this is happening to us. What will Alex say? We're too old to have another baby, Erik."_

_ "Alex?" Erik repeated faintly. A smile slowly came to his face and he turned to the framed portrait they had taken of her on her fifth birthday. He remembered when she was a baby- he loved it when she was a baby. They played helicopter, Barbies, Becky taught her how to bake a cake... Erik leaned back in his chair and let the smile widen. Having a baby was fun. "Well, Becky, maybe having a baby wouldn't be such a bad thing," He commented hesitantly. "It would be nice to have little feet running around the house again... little hands getting the windows dirty, little fingers playing the piano... don't you think?"_

_ "Erik!" Becky moaned, covering her face with her hands. "That's what _grand_children are for! You're going to be fifty! I'll be fifty soon! This is ridiculous! Do you honestly want to have to take care of another baby at this age? Wake up at odd hours of the night to feed them? Change diapers? _Pay for college?_"_

_Erik frowned defensively. "Alex got scholarships," He pointed out. "I think a baby would be fun."_

And Zack was fun. For the first two or three months after he was born, Erik lived in a state of totally ignorant bliss. He even got paternity leave from the school. Becky stayed home for the first several weeks, but then she had to go back to work. It was her bakery, after all- she _had_ to run it. Erik happily stayed home and watched Baby Einstein, changed nasty diapers, poured pumped breast milk into bottles... he liked having a baby.

But Zack started to take his toll. Becky was right; they weren't as young as they were when they had Alex. He could no longer have six nights of sleep get interrupted and not be cranky the next day. His back started to ache from carrying his son all around the house, and the doctor diagnosed him with high blood pressure.

"Professor?" Christine sighed into his chest. She gently played with the dark hair peeking out from under his sweater. "Will the baby like me?"

"Christine," Erik said tightly. "If you had a baby, it would ruin everyone's lives. Do you get it? It would ruin my life, Becky's life, your life- the baby's life, Christine! The baby cannot stay and live here with you and Meg in your dorm. The baby cannot live with my wife, toddler and I. The baby has nowhere to live! Do you see?"

"I can buy a house for the baby," She mumbled. "And me and the baby can live together."

Erik untangled himself from her arms and scrambled to his feet. "No, Christine!" He cried. He shoved his finger in her face and shook his head resolutely. "No! You can't, ok? You just can't. You're seventeen years old! You're barely passing your classes, you have no skills, you have no real world experience, you have no money, you have _no one_- no one but _me_, do you understand? You're- Jesus Christ," He threw up his hands and started to laugh or cry, he wasn't sure which. "You're an _incest_ victim! You're emotionally damaged!"

Christine stared at him in shock. Baby sat in her lap serenely, giving Erik a sort of creepy half smile. Suddenly Erik heard tears. Christine was crying and staring at him, but in her eyes, this time, he saw... not uncertainty, or fear, or loneliness, but- anger.

"I am not DAMAGED!" She wailed, grabbing her phone and throwing it at him. She climbed off the bed and grabbed one of Meg's Physics textbooks from the desk; when Erik saw her, his eyes widened in alarm and he held up his hands.

"Christine, put that down right now-"

"I'm not damaged!" She cried. "I'm going to be eighteen this summer! I have an A in math class! I can make a chocolate cake! I babysat Zack! I have twenty five dollars! AND I HAVE BABY! And she's ten times better than you because she never tells me I can't do things! I'm not stupid you know! Get out! Get out, get out, get out! I hate you, you big dummy!" She walked closer and Erik winced, thinking she was going to raise the book, but instead- she dropped it. Right on his toes.

"FUCK!" He yowled, grabbing his toe. Through her tears, Christine pushed him and he stumbled backwards against her bed. She ignored him and climbed right back into bed and under her covers. Without another word, she buried her head under her pillow and sobbed to herself.

"Go away now please!" She sniffled, wriggling uncomfortably when she heard he was still there. "I'm very sad right now."

Erik slowly limped to her bed, his toes still aching something terrible. He vaguely wondered what Meg was majoring in that she needed such a big fat stupid Physics book lying around for Christine to use as a weapon. "Christine-" He tried again, reaching out and touching her shoulder. She violently shrugged him away, but he didn't budge. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You're right; I was wrong. Will you forgive me? I never meant to say you were stupid. I know you're not stupid. Will you look at me?"

"I know everyone thinks I'm stupid," Christine whispered into her pillow. "I know everyone thinks I can't do anything. I know girls don't want to be my friend because I kiss too many boys. I know I annoy Meg and I know Mrs. Giry didn't want me to come for Christmas this year. I'm not stupid, you know, Professor."

Erik sat down on the edge of her bed and stroked her forehead. This time, she let him touch her. "You're not stupid," He whispered back. "You're talented, and beautiful, and sweet, and I love you no matter what." He laid down next to her, and she allowed him to get under the covers and spoon with her. She even pressed herself closer into his chest. "I love you."

"Professor?" She whispered, taking his hand, lacing hers with it, and then resting it on her tummy. "I don't want to do it anymore. Can we not do it today?"

He buried his face in her hair and held her closer. "We never have to do it again, Christine," He replied. He wondered when the last time she said 'no' was. He wondered if she ever _had_ said 'no.' "You can always, always say no, Christine. You know that, right? You never have to do anything you don't want to do, and that means with me-" He winced. "With Raoul, or anybody else."

She wriggled against him, and Erik realized she was trying to turn around and face him. When she did, she pressed her face into his shoulder and wrapped her skinny, pale, childish arms around his neck. Her face was hidden, but after a moment, Erik could tell that she was crying. He didn't say anything. He just let her cry. He couldn't even imagine what was going through her mind- he had no way to gauge just how much she understood, where her moral compass pointed for such issues... nothing.

"Every time I try to say no," She sobbed into his chest. "Nobody listens to me. I don't feel so good." She sucked in a breath and then looked up at him with big, wet, red-rimmed eyes and a trembling lip. "I wish I had a big house like you, Professor," She cried. "And I wish I had a Mommy like Mrs. Becky, and a puppy like Cesar, and a Daddy like you-"

Erik tried not to flinch when she compared him to a potential father. He understood what she meant, and he was simultaneously disgusted and touched that she wanted him as a father as well as a lover. "Christine, listen to me," He began gently. "I'm going to take care of you, ok? I promise I won't let anything bad happen to you, but you have to listen to me. Please, you have trust me, and let me take you to the doctor. You _cannot_ have a baby, honey." He kissed her forehead and regarded her sadly. "You can't."

"You'll take care of me," She whispered, pressing her face back into his chest. It wasn't really a question. "You'll take care of me. Forever?"

He pulled her as close as possible and hugged her fiercely. "Forever, for as long as you're alive, I promise that I'll take care of you. You're my baby, Christine. _My_ baby, and we don't need another baby, right? As long as we have each other, that's enough."

"As long as we have each other," Christine echoed softly. "We don't need my baby..."

"Professor," Christine murmured uneasily. "I don't want to go to the doctor's."

"Hush," He said, patting her hand distractedly. "Don't think about it. If you're a good girl for the doctor, I'll buy you an ice cream when we're done. Alright? Can you be my good girl?"

"An ice cream?" She repeated softly. She bit her lip; an ice cream _did_ sound good. And she had been to the doctor only a little while ago and it hadn't been that bad... maybe it wouldn't be so bad this time either. She vaguely remembered getting lollipops whenever her father took her to the doctor when she was little. Maybe she would get a lollipop this time. "I can be a good girl."

"That's my baby," Erik crooned, bringing her knuckles to his lips and kissing them reverently. "I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Professor," She whispered. After a moment; "Is it going to hurt?"

"No, noooo, hush, Christine, I already told you. Just don't think about it, and it will all be over sooner than you can imagine. Just close your eyes, and think of something nice; I'll buy you another Barbie doll, how about that, hmm?" Erik wheedled her. "Think about which one you want and I promise I'll buy it for you. Can you do that for me?"

"I want Showgirl Barbie," She replied shyly, wiggling around in her heated seat. "Can I have Showgirl Barbie?"

"Of course you can have Showgirl Barbie," Erik replied quickly, kissing her knuckles again. The Planned Parenthood center he was taking her to was right up the road and around the corner. They would be there in less than ten minutes. "Just keep thinking about Showgirl Barbie."

It was a rather benign looking little building with a row of tulips on the path leading to the door. There were two young men standing outside with big picket signs condemning abortion, but it looked like they were on a break. They were each sipping a cup of presumably coffee and one was smoking a cigarette. Erik vaguely wondered how often women got abortions in Middletown, Connecticut.

The young men immediately jumped to attention when Erik pulled up and climbed out of the car. Erik ignored them and quickly opened the door for Christine and started leading her to the entrance. "What are they saying?" Christine wondered curiously, trying to stop and read a sign. "Wait, they want to talk to us! Professor!"

"Christine, just ignore them and keep walking, ok?" Erik replied wearily. "Just walk to the door."

"Ma'am, do you know that abortion is killing your baby?" One of the men began determinedly. He followed her from the car door to the sidewalk and the path with the little tulips.

"Oh look, tulips!" Christine cried in excitement, not hearing him. She pointed to them and smiled at the picketer. "I love tulips, they're so pretty. And it's cold outside! I wonder how they stay alive."

"Your baby would love tulips," The man said gently, realizing the best approach with Christine was not aggression. "Don't you want to be able to plant tulips for your baby to see? Don't you want a baby you can show tulips to? You know, your _baby_ is alive, just like those tulips. Are you ready to kill your baby?"

"I-" Christine's face fell and she blinked in confusion. "I don't-"

"Do you mind?" Erik snapped, grabbing Christine's elbow and walking her forward. "Mind your own business, please. Go finish your coffee."

"Sir, are you this young lady's father? Are you ready to let your grandchild be killed?" The other man said suddenly, appearing in front of them. "Your _grandchild, _sir. Think about this!"

"Good bye!" Erik bellowed, finally pushing Christine past the door and into the building. A rush of warm air passed over them and Christine shivered. She reached out and snaked her tiny hand in his, clutching it tightly. There were about five or six women in the waiting room. They all looked much older than Christine.

"Hello," Erik greeted the receptionist nervously. "We would like an abortion, please."

"...we?" The receptionist replied with a raised eyebrow. She glanced over and saw Christine, looking terribly young in her fluffy angora cardigan, corduroy skirt and thick ivory tights. She smiled reassuringly and Christine squeezed Erik's hand tighter. "Hello, dear. What's your name?"

"Christine." Christine squeaked.

"Last name too, darling," Erik murmured, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's alright, don't be nervous."

"D-Daae." Christine finished, swallowing and shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Christine Olympia Daae. Like the doll."

"And how old are you?" The lady asked kindly, furtively looking from Christine's pigtails to Erik's wedding ring. "Are you older than eighteen?"

"I'm s-seventeen," Christine stammered. "My birthday is in June. I'll be eighteen in June. I want an abortion, please."

"Yes, I know. Alright, we just have this little form we need you to fill out here, see, name, address, allergies, things like that, and you can fill it out right here in the waiting room. When you're done just come back and give it to me, and then we can move on from there. Ok? And you can just have a seat right there with Dad," She pointed to two empty armchairs.

"He's not my daddy," Christine blurted with big eyes. "He's my professor. We want an abortion, please."

Erik groaned and turned beet red. He tried to hide his wedding ring, but he knew it was too late and the receptionist had already seen it. He didn't dare look into her eyes- he could practically feel the laser beams shooting out of her eyes in his direction. "Christine, let's just fill out this form now," He muttered quickly, leading her to the chairs.

"Professor, what are they going to do to me?" Christine whined uncertainly as he filled her forms out for her. She wrung her hands in her lap and pushed his knee petulantly. "I'm scared. I don't want an abortion anymore. I want to go home. I want my Barbie."

He took her hand and kept writing with the other one. "Calm down," He soothed her, rubbing circles on her hand with his thumb. "Just relax and take a deep breath. I'm going to buy you Showgirl Barbie as soon as we're done, ok?"

She started to cry and then she started to bite her nails. "It's going to hurt..." She wailed, blinking her big eyes and staring around the room in fright. She started shaking her head fervently. "I don't want to!"

Erik put the forms down and quickly gathered her into his lap. Several women glanced at them from the corner of their eyes. "Hush," He soothed her again, kissing her forehead. "Shh, shh, don't cry sweetheart," He jiggled his knee gently and rubbed her back through her fluffy angora sweater with the little faux pearl buttons. "It's ok, Christine. It's going to be alright, I promise you. You're my baby, remember? I'm taking care of you forever and ever. Now stop crying and be my good girl, mmm?"

She buried her face in his shoulder and refused to let go of his sweater. His smell was so comforting that she found herself dozing off after only a few minutes in his arms. He let her stay, and shifted her slightly so he could finish filling everything out. He finished after another ten minutes or so, and then he could clearly see that the only thing to do was wait.

After about forty minutes of waiting, a nurse came to the front and called her name. Erik jostled her gently to wake her up and she clutched his arms in surprise. She had an indentation of his sweater on her left cheek and her hair was tousled, just like after they made love. "Wake up, sleepyhead," He murmured. "It's time to go in."

"Christine?" The smiling nurse asked. "Hi there! My name is Nurse Restell and I'll be with you the whole time we're here today, alright? How are you feeling?"

Christine blinked and tried to hide behind Erik, clutching his hand in a vise grip. He pushed her out, in front of him and stroked her shoulder reassuringly. "She's very nervous," He apologized hoarsely. "She's never done anything..." He gestured helplessly.

"It's ok," Nurse Restell said gently. "It's normal to be nervous. Is this your Dad, Christine?"

She shook her head and looked up at Erik with that trembling lip and those big blue eyes he adored. She mumbled something incomprehensible and tried to hide behind him again, but he wouldn't let her. "I'm- I'm the father," He rasped, gliding his hand over Christine's still flat tummy. "May I come with her?"

"Yes, of course. You'll have to stay outside for the actual procedure, but you can be with her for everything else. Now we're going to talk to a counselor, talk about our options, how you're feeling, and then there'll be a few little tests. After that, if everything goes accordingly to plan, they'll perform the procedure and we'll take you to a separate room to rest. And then you can go home, ok?" Nurse Restell touched Christine's shoulder and gently started leading her down the hallway.

Erik thought the questions would never end. He had to force himself to keep his mouth shut and wait with the counselor for Christine to answer every single one of them after he was told that he couldn't answer for her. Christine looked like she was shell-shocked or something. It took her ages to reply to anything the counselor asked.

"Are you in a monogamous relationship with the father?" The counselor asked softly, eyeing Erik out of the corner of her eye.

Christine clutched Erik's hand and sniffed petulantly. "What does that mean?" She whined to Erik, fidgeting impatiently. "I don't get it."

"No, she's not," Erik answered shortly.

"Sir, we need to ask _Christine_ these questions. Please refrain from answering for her." The counselor replied just as shortly. "Christine?"

"She doesn't know what monogamous means!" Erik snapped. "She doesn't understand your question, but I'm telling you she's not! I'm the father!"

"Ok. Let's move on. Have you thought about all of your options other than abortion? We can absolutely still go through with the procedure today, but we have to make sure you're aware of all of your options."

"My options?" Christine repeated faintly. "Like what?"

"Well, number one, you can decide not to terminate the pregnancy and keep it." The counselor said simply.

Christine blinked and turned to Erik uncertainly. "But I can't do that," She said. It almost sounded like a question. "Professor said I have to get an abortion. I don't want to get in trouble with Mrs. Becky..."

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Christine," The counselor assured her. "Who's Mrs. Becky?"

"Professor's wife," Christine blurted before Erik could stop her. "She'll get mad at me if I don't get an abortion."

"May I please speak to you outside?" The counselor asked Erik sharply. She didn't wait for a reply and quickly stood up and walked outside. "We'll be right back, Christine," She reassured her.

Christine looked up at Erik in near terror. "Did I say something wrong?" She whimpered, blinking furiously and biting her nails. "Is she mad at me? Are you mad at me? Am I going to get in trouble? Where are you going? Are you coming back? Please don't leave me, Professor," She begged, grabbing his hand and starting to cry. "Please don't go."

"It's ok, honey," He crooned, kneeling in front of her. He kissed her forehead. "You're not in trouble, no one is mad at you. I'm just going to talk to the nice lady right outside and I'l be right back, I promise. I'm right outside."

"How old is she?" The counselor asked as soon as Erik closed the door behind him. Her arms were crossed and she looked livid.

"She's seventeen," Erik replied simply.

"And you're her professor?"

"Yes."

"And you've been sleeping with her for how long?"

"How does this pertain to her getting an abortion?" Erik asked tensely.

The counselor shrugged and through up her hands. "It doesn't. I was just asking. Did you rape her?"

"No," Erik snarled. "I did not rape her. How dare you? Are we done here? She's probably having an attack because we've left her alone. And just so you know- because she won't say anything to you, I know she won't, she's terrified. But just so you know, she was taken from her parents' care when she was a child. She's a victim of physical abuse, emotional abuse, sexual abuse, incest, you name it. I don't know if you need that for your records." He shuddered and walked back into the little room.

"So, Christine," The counselor began again when they were both inside. "Your options are- follow through with the abortion today, keep the pregnancy, and adoption.

"Adoption?" Christine repeated uncertainly. "Adopt the baby?"

"Well, you can carry it to term and we'll help you find a family willing to adopt it, yes. Would you like to look into that?"

"No!" Erik blurted, slamming his fist on the desk. "No adoption! No baby! We just want an abortion, please!"

"Sir!" The counselor cried. "That's enough! If you have another outburst, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the center. This counseling session is not for you, it is for Christine. And if she chooses adoption, that's her right. Now please, calm down."

Christine heard 'leave the center.' "No!" She wailed, grabbing Erik's arm. "Please don't make him leave! Please! I want an abortion! No adoption! I want an abortion, please!" She started biting her nails again. "Abortion. I want an abortion. No baby. Don't make him leave, please."

The rest of the questions flew by. Christine trembled and clutched Erik's hand the whole time. _Are you being forced to have an abortion? Do you have a support system to turn to after the procedure? Are you a religious person? Would you like the Pregnancy Options Handbook? Are you currently on birth control? Would you like to be?_

Once the counseling was over, they moved into a sterile little room with a small paper covered bed. An elderly doctor with chocolate colored skin and a snow white beard greeted Christine and Erik with a gentle, wise smile. "Hello there," He said in a gravely voice. "Are we ready? I'm just going to do a couple of tests, alright, miss? Sir, if you'll just have a seat." He gestured to a chair in the corner.

He took Christine's blood, which she hated and demanded Erik hold her hand while he did it. He thought she was going to faint. They sent her to go pee in a cup, and then when she came back, the doctor asked her to change into a paper gown. After the doctor stepped out of the room, Erik stood up awkwardly.

"Would you like me to leave as well?" He coughed. She was just staring the paper gown uncertainly.

"I have to put this on?" She whispered, holding the gown up. "It's paper."

"Let me help you," He offered. She let him unbutton her cardigan, fold it neatly, pull off her t-shirt, fold that neatly, but when he walked around to unclip her bra, she hunched over and shook her head.

"I have to take that off too?" She asked tremulously. "Why?"

"You have to take everything off, sweetheart," He replied apologetically. "They're going to do a... check-up. They're going to check everything. But you can put this dress on, see?" He held up the flimsy paper gown with a lame smile.

She let him take off her bra, and she wiggled out of her skirt, and tights on her own. He folded everything neatly, and then gestured to her panties. "You have to take everything off, Christine," He said softly.

"I don't want to..." She whined. "Why do I have to get naked? You said I could say if I didn't want to do it."

"You can't say no now," He replied with difficulty. "Because this is a doctor. You can say no to other things, but now you have to take off your panties and put on the paper dress."

She was crying again. He touched her back, and felt goosebumps. She took off her panties and held up her arms so Erik could bring the dress over her head. The doctor stepped in right then and Erik retreated back to his chair in the corner.

"Alright, Christine, we're just going to take a peak in here and make sure there are no problems... can you put your legs up here for me?" He pointed to the stirrups and she obliged, though Erik could see she was shaking like a leaf. When the doctor's gloved hands touched her, she started whimpering. Erik stood up and took her hand.

Erik wondered if he would eve be able to not completely hate himself for being such an immense asshole. He hoped that the image of Christine's terrified face when she was lying on the cold medical bed with a doctor's hands inside of her would stay with him for the rest of his life. It was enough to make him never want to touch her again, for fear of damaging her even more.

She screamed when he scraped for cervical cells. "That's hurts!" She cried, trying to squeeze her legs together. The doctor mumbled something in a soothing voice, but she didn't hear him. "I don't want to do this anymore," She whimpered to Erik. "Please... Professor, it hurts."

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. "Just take a deep breath," He murmured. "It'll be over in a minute."

It was over in a minute. Her thighs looked like someone had charged them with Duracel batteries; he had never seen her shake so much, so uncontrollably. She had squeezed her eyes shut, and she refused to let go of his hand.

"We're going to wheel her out, but we'll be ready for her in about fifteen minutes," The doctor murmured to Erik as he washed his hands. "She'll get some anesthesia, of course, but she's going to be awake for most of it. You're taking her home, right?"

Erik nodded silently. The doctor gave Christine a little plastic cup with several pills and told her to drink them all with water. "When they start to work, that's when you'll be ready to come on in," He smiled, trying to be cheerful for the little patient that look like a ghost.

Erik could tell as soon as the medicine hit her. She looked drowsy and she clung to him even more than earlier. Even though the drugs made her incoherent and confused, when he looked into her eyes, he could see one last trace of lucidity in her eyes, and it was begging him to save her and make it stop. He kissed her forehead and rested his chin on the top of her head. He couldn't look in her eyes.

They came out to collect her, and when she realized belatedly that Erik would not be going in with her, she started to scream. "P-p-p-please!" She wailed, hanging on to him with all of her might. "No, please, don't leave me!" He tried to hush her, but it was pointless. She wouldn't be silenced. She grabbed his hair and sobbed, but he lifted her and put her on the little rolling bed. "I don't want to go, I don't want to, please, please-" She held on to him desperately. "Daddy, please..."

"Be my good girl," He whispered in her ear. "Be a good girl for me, shhh, be my good girl. Be my good girl, and I'll be waiting right here."

Her face contorted in rage and right before they wheeled her into the operating room, she took a swipe at his face and knocked his mask clear off his face. The nurses and doctors gasped, and Erik clutched the burned side in shock. "I hate you!" She screamed.


	31. Busted

The doctor came out to the waiting room far too soon. It wasn't the same one who had given Christine her check-up; this one was younger, and far more handsome. Erik stood up and cleared his throat nervously; it hadn't even been ten minutes. "Doctor?" He asked cautiously. "Is everything alright?"

"Mr. Destler?" The doctor nodded curtly and kept his hands in his pockets. "I'm Dr. Jasper, something came up and Dr. Clifford had to leave. I understand you're Christine's partner?"

Erik nodded. "What's the matter? Is something wrong? Is it over? Is she alright?"

"Mr. Destler, we're not going to perform the procedure today," Dr. Jasper said smoothly. "Christine is in no condition."

Erik paled and raked a hand through his hair. "W-wait a second, what do you mean you're not going to perform the procedure today?" He demanded desperately. "But- you have to! Christine has to have this abortion, Doctor! I can go- if you let me go, I can talk to her now, if you'd like-"

Dr. Jasper held up his hand and calmly sat down in one of the gray metal folding chairs. He motioned to the seat next to him. "Mr. Destler," He began in that smooth, easy voice. "I refuse to give Christine an abortion today. I'm sure that you could convince her, if I let you go back there, but this is not fair to Christine." His voice was so... so smooth, so cold; Erik couldn't help feeling relaxed.

"But please, Doctor, you don't understand-" Erik pressed. "Christine is in no condition to have a baby, she can't manage it. I can't support her the way a baby would demand. It's best for everyone!"

"Mr. Destler, did you see the way Christine went into that operating room?" Dr. Jasper demanded in the same low, calm voice. "I couldn't go near her without her begging me and screaming not to. She's terrified. I had to give her drugs to knock her out! There's no way I could go through with performing an abortion on a girl in her state. She's seventeen years old- do you have any idea what it would do to her, emotionally, having an abortion she wasn't at peace with?" He shook his head.

"Doctor..." Erik wheezed hoarsely.

"I'm not trying to talk Christine out of having an abortion," Dr. Jasper continued cooly. "We can reschedule the appointment and she can come back here freely. But I will demand that she undergo another counseling session if she does, without you." He raised his eyebrows knowingly and imperceptibly nodded his head. "I can tell that she takes whatever you tell her very, very seriously. I can tell that you have a very strong influence on her decisions. Having an abortion is _Christine_'s decision to make, not yours."

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it distractedly and glanced at the screen. _New SMS from Becky._ He gulped, and when he glanced up again at Dr. Jasper, he could see that the doctor had an idea of who the message was from.

_Erik- come home now._

That was all it said. Erik randomly wished that he kept a diary. If he did, this would surely go down as being The Worst Day of His Life. _Dear Diary, first I had to drive my baby doll lover to the abortion clinic, where I had to try to ignore her crying in fear, then the ice doctor told me my underage mistress was going to have to stay pregnant, and now, my wife is sending me ominous text messages. Since when does she text?_

"I can see that you're busy now," Dr. Jasper breathed, slowly rising to his feet. "We're wheeling Christine into the recovery room until she sleeps off the drugs, and after that you can take her home. I ask you to wait until tomorrow before making another appointment here. And Mr. Destler?" He turned around one more time as he was walking back down the hallway. He cocked his eyebrow knowingly. "Take it easy, will you?"

Erik tried to shrug away the bizarre feeling of peace he felt washing over his body. Thankfully it disappeared as soon as the ice doctor was out of sight. He had things to worry about, stat. But he couldn't think; he couldn't concentrate. He slowly walked to the recovery room, trying to make sense of his muddled thoughts.

Christine was fast asleep in the cold, white hospital bed. There were dried tears on her cheeks, and her nose was runny. Her pigtails were mussed, and the flimsy paper dress looked painfully cold. Erik shrugged out of his jacket and tucked it under her chin.

"I know I'm in the wrong," He whispered against her cheek. "I know I never should have let us happen, and I know it's my fault. I know it's not fair for you, and I know you've had a life so many people wouldn't have survived." His voice started to crack, and he took her flat, sleeping palm in his hand. "I know, deep down, that making you do this isn't right. I know you're scared, and I know I'm a coward. But I love you so, so much, Christine, and I couldn't take it if something happened to you. I know that there are worst things than dying."

She stayed sleeping. He almost expected her to magically flutter her pretty eyelashes and wake up with another oblivious smile. She didn't. Her breathing was too deep, too unnatural. He would just have to wait until the drugs wore off. He sat down in the plastic chair besides the bed and pulled out his cell phone. There were no new messages waiting for him, only the last one from Becky. _Erik- come home now._

Nurse Restell came in after several minutes and silently handed Erik a copy of the Pregnancy Handbook. "This is for Christine," She said clearly. "She should be waking up soon; her clothes are right here. This is a short summary of her visit today-" She handed him a sheet of paper. "She's about eight weeks right now. We'll send her a copy of the STD report in about two weeks." She shook her head sympathetically, and actually patted Erik's shoulder. "It can't be easy," She whispered, quickly yanking the curtains closed and scurrying away.

Nurse Restell was right. Christine woke up shortly after she left. She was groggy and incoherent, and it looked like she was cold. "Professor..." She mumbled. "I had a bad dream-" Her eyes welled up and she bit her lip as she slowly looked around. It was no dream. "Oh." She whispered, touching her stomach. "Is it all over now?"

Erik leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "No," He replied. "Nothing happened. They put you to sleep and then rolled you in here, that's all. You've just been sleeping for the past thirty minutes."

She furrowed her brow and rubbed her eyes. "I don't get it," She mumbled. "I thought I was getting an abortion."

"Not today," Erik replied quickly. "Let's get you dressed and I can take you home, alright? Are you hungry?"

She nodded and continued scrunching her nose and rubbing her eyes, even when Erik lifted her up from under the covers and set her on the edge of the bed. "I'm sleepy," She yawned. "I want to go back to sleep."

"After," He assured her soothingly. "When I take you home, you can sleep all you want. What do you want to eat?" He guided each foot through her panties and helped her pull them up, followed by her thick ivory tights. She wiggled tiny princess toes and Erik bent down to kiss her knees before reaching for her skirt.

"Pizza," She sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. He squeezed her thighs, and she automatically lifted her bottom so her could pull up her skirt. "I want some pizza."

"Pizza?" He smiled faintly. "What kind of pizza?" He untied her paper gown and let it flutter to the bed. She didn't cover herself when it was gone; he could see the comfort, the trust in her eyes. She still felt safe with him, despite everything.

"Pizza... with pineapple. And ham. Pineapple pizza. And Pepsi-" She yawned and her head thudded onto Erik's shoulder again. "A big glass of Pepsi." She held up her arms and let him slip them through her polka dotted bra. He clipped it together and let his chin rest on her shoulder. "Professor," She murmured. "What about the baby?"

He took a deep breath in and pulled her against his chest tightly. After a moment, he pulled away and touched her cheek gently. "What do you want, Christine?" He replied sadly. "What do you want?"

She swallowed with an unidentifiable expression on her face. "I don't know," She breathed. "I just want pizza right now."

Erik dropped Christine off at her dorm room that evening almost as though nothing had happened. Well nothing really did happen- it felt too surreal to think about. He took her to a pizza parlor near the school, bought her three slices of Hawaiian pizza, an extra large Pepsi, and then just took her to school.

Meg wasn't there; Erik breathed a sigh of relief when he realized she was out at Sauna's for the night. He didn't think he was up to explaining what had happened, especially since he knew what Meg's reaction would probably be. He waited while Christine took a shower, brushed her teeth, and put on her pajamas, rainbow striped long johns.

"Tuck me in," she bleated sleepily. "I'm so sleepy."

"It's the medicine; it's probably still in your system," He replied softly. He brought the covers over her tummy, torso, and all the way up to her neck. She wiggled her toes under the blankets and rolled to her side, extending a teensy tiny hand to him.

"Please don't go yet," She asked softly. "I don't want to be alone. Will you stay until I go to sleep?"

"Yes, I'll stay for a little while," He agreed. He reached out and started stroking her forehead; she liked that. She purred and kissed his hand, then carefully settled herself to fall asleep. Her eyes fluttered sleepily, but she kept them awake, trailed on his face.

"I can't keep my baby," She whispered, reaching out and trailing her index finger down his cheek. It wasn't a question; it wasn't even very sad. It just sounded like she had come to a conclusion, a realization that she was at peace with.

He shook his head sadly. "No," He whispered back. "You can't."

"Do you think the baby would've liked me anyway?" She wondered.

Erik really, really hated to cry, and he never did either- it was drilled into him when he was younger that crying was a sign of weakness, and weakness was unacceptable. There was no time to cry with Nadir when they were younger, planting bombs, watching others die, even getting his face all melted off- he never cried. But when it was just the two- three?- of them, him, Christine, and the baby that wouldn't be theirs, the tears fell effortlessly. Like he had been crying all his life.

She didn't say anything, but gently pulled him closer, closer, until he was in bed with her, with his arm wrapped tightly around her frail waist and his face burrowed in her hair. And suddenly, it was Christine, who was so used to being comforted and babied by everyone, who was stroking his back and humming in his ear. "I think the baby would've liked both of us," She whispered, with a faint smile on her face.

"What have I done to you?" He grieved under his breath. "You don't deserve any of this, Christine... I wish I had turned you away, the first day you approached me. I should've had you switched out to another class, spoken to the school therapist. I never did anything. Why...?" He stared at her big eyes, so trusting and kind, and he wondered vaguely what might've been if he had been responsible.

"My daddy hurt me," She whispered suddenly, her eyes still as large and serene as though she were discussing ice cream flavors with him. "I never told anybody that. Except you."

"Oh, Christine-" His face crumbled again, and he felt those damn tears falling down his face even as he tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to comfort- one of them. "I know," He breathed. "I know, I know, you don't have to tell me, I know everything-"

"No," She stopped him, lacing her fingers with his uncertainly. "I want to tell you." She gently took his mask off and patted his cheeks with the sleeve of her pajamas. He wondered if it was the hormones that had suddenly injected her with so much maturity in such a short time.

"Your father?" Erik ventured warily.

She blinked rapidly and furrowed her brow, like she was trying to remember the answer to a math question on a test she hadn't studied for. "It hurt, when he made me do it. I didn't like it. I said no, I said, 'Daddy, please don't, I promise I'll help Mama clean the kitchen,' but he did anyway." She blinked again, ten times in a row, and furrowed her brow even more until there were nothing but wrinkles on her baby smooth forehead.

"I remember his friend, Mr. Michael, because he was in charge of Boy Scouts and whenever there were meetings, my mama would bring them food. He used to come over to our house and watch football, and then when the game was over, my daddy would say, 'Christine, come upstairs and spend some time with Daddy and Mr. Mike,' and I said ok because I didn't want to get in trouble."

"Daddy said if I was a good girl and I did exactly what he said that it would stop hurting and it would feel good. It did feel good. Daddy said I made a lot of noise; Mama always looked so mad at me when Daddy finished. She said I was dumb and Daddy only liked me for one reason." She stopped and shrugged uncertainly. "I never wanted to make her angry."

"It happens all the time," She continued in a sad little whisper. "But not with you, Professor. So even if I have to send the baby away, it's ok, because I trust you. I feel safe with you, so I think the baby will be safe too, if I do what you tell me to. I'll get an abortion, and I'll be a good girl."

Erik swallowed and closed his eyes. "Christine, if you don't want to get an abortion, I won't force you. We can put the baby up for adoption too, if you want."

"So I have the baby and then give it away?" She wondered. "Can I still name it?"

"I don't think so, Christine," Erik replied sadly. "As soon as you have the baby, I think they'll take it away and give it to a nice family who will take care of it. And then you can keep going to school, and stay here in your dorm with Meg, and everything will go back to normal. Ok?"

"Okey dokey," Christine replied distantly.

He got home late. He was beyond the nervousness he used to feel after sneaking around with Christine- he almost wished Becky would call him out on his recent behavior, just so he wouldn't have to lie anymore. He would almost prefer an angry confrontation to the apathetic, unfamiliar... cohabitation they seemed to be in. As he walked into the kitchen, however, he realized he wished too soon.

Becky was there, at the kitchen table, sitting as still as a stone. Her elbows were on the table, and her face was cradled in her hands. Her shoulders slumped forward, her hair was in a messy bun, and Erik caught a glimpse of wiped mascara on the back of her hand. He started; he never saw Becky look anything less than perfectly poised and composed.

She looked up slowly when she heard him enter, like she was just noticing him, but he was sure she must've heard his car in the garage. He stifled a gasp when her eyes met his; they were red rimmed, and there was runny mascara all down her cheeks. She looked awful. There were several important looking papers lined up in front of her on the table. She gestured to the seat across from her and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. Becky, who always had a neat handkerchief on hand.

"Why don't you sit down?" She invited him nonchalantly, continuing to point to the chair and shrugging. "Did you have a nice night?"

"I wouldn't say that..." He replied cautiously, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite his wife. "What's going on?"

She sat back in the chair and drummed her fingers on the edge of the table edgily, like she was plugged to a live wire but was trying to contain her raw energy. Erik's stomach dropped uneasily. She leaned forward again and wiped her eyes, wiping away some, but not all, of the mascara that clouded her face. "You know, I went to the doctor a couple of weeks ago."

Erik nodded again, still uneasy. "I remember," He replied slowly. "I picked up Zack from school that day. What is this about?"

"I went to the gynecologist," She continued, like he hadn't even spoken. "Just for my yearly check-up, like I do every year. They did all the normal tests, you know, breast cancer, UTI, all of that-" Her voice was getting steadily louder as she continued with her story. Erik assumed his son was sleeping.

"They tested for other things too- not that they thought I really had to worry about them, just to be safe, you never know what you can pick up in a gas station bathroom." She slowly picked up the first paper lined up on the table and held it in front of her with trembling hands. "I got the results today."

And suddenly, Erik knew. He felt his stomach drop; he felt his brain spin around in his head like a cartoon, and he gripped the edge of the table in case he accidentally fainted. His face paled, but Becky didn't notice; she was still staring at the piece of paper she was holding in her trembling hands.

"Chlamydia," She whispered in a shaky voice. "Gonorrhea."

"Holy shit," Erik swore, dropping his face into his hands. He covered his mouth with one hand and stared at Becky in shock as he leaned back as far away as possible. "Jesus Christ."

"Do you have any idea how humiliating it is," Becky continued, silent tears now streaming down her face. "To have someone tell you that you have a sexually transmitted infection you have no reason to have? To know that _they_ knew before you that your husband is having an affair?" She inhaled deeply and tried to compose herself again, but the tears came harder. "To have everyone in the room- the doctor, the nurse- all staring at you in _pity_, like you're just another pathetic wife who's husband is sleeping around right under her nose?"

"Becky-" Erik pleaded, jumping up from his seat and kneeling down in front of her chair. He took her hands in his, but she wretched them away and sobbed loudly.

"Don't touch me, Erik!" She warned him in a shaky voice. "I can barely stand to look at you right now; you're lucky I didn't just take off with Zack to my mother's house. Don't _touch_ me." She took another deep breath in, and this time she was able to compose herself a little more. She folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. "Who is she?"

Erik sat back on his haunches and gave her a pained expression. He tried to reach for her hands again, but once again, she snatched them away and gave him a furious stare. "Get up," She snapped, planting her elbows back on the table.

Erik slowly stood back up and walked back to the chair opposite his wife. He tentatively reached his hand across the table and tried to touch hers; she yanked it away and shuddered. "Who is she?" She repeated in a would be calm voice. "I think I have a right to know." She looked up into his eyes coldly, but she still couldn't help the tears that continued to stream down her face. "You're not going to tell me? Fine. Tell me something else. Is it just one?"

Erik nodded slowly and looked down at his hands dazedly. "Just one," He repeated faintly.

Becky took another deep breath in and closed her eyes. "Do you love her?" she asked, unable to hide the way her voice cracked on the word love.

Erik swallowed and said nothing. Could this day possibly get any worse? He prayed to God Alex wouldn't call to inform him of another tattoo. "Yes," He breathed. "I love her."

Becky looked up and blinked rapidly. The sob wretched itself out of her chest before she could stop it. "Ok," She whispered. "Well, that's worse than just sex. I think I could've dealt with just sex. I- I don't know how to handle l-love-" Her voice cracked again, and this time she couldn't compose herself anymore. She covered her face with both hands and started to sob. Her shoulders shook, and her hands trembled.

"Am I that stupid?" She whispered, reaching for a tissue in her pocket. She was finally able to wipe all of the mascara away. "Oh my God... you have no idea how much of an idiot I feel like. I'm sure it was really funny, laughing at poor, oblivious Mrs. Destler, who doesn't notice anything is wrong with her marriage..." She smiled humorlessly and shrugged. "I hope you got a good laugh at my expense, Erik."

"Becky," Erik whispered hoarsely. "Please, it's not like that. I never meant to hurt you, I swear to God. I know that must sound-" She rolled her eyes angrily and he nodded weakly. "I know there's nothing I can say right now to redeem myself. But I swear I didn't mean for any of this to hurt you."

"I know our marriage isn't perfect, Erik," She whispered sadly. "I know we fight, and I even admit it's my fault, so much of it! I mean, maybe if we had more sex-" Her voice wavered again as she tried to cover her sobs. "I don't know. But was it really that bad? Am _I_ really that bad?"

"No, Becky," Erik moaned. "It's not your fault, it's me, it was all me, please listen-"

She held up her hand and shook her head. "Please, Erik," She said hoarsely. "Just stop." She took a deep breath and regained her composure once again. "Will you tell me who she is?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "No," He whispered. When he saw her face, he tried to backtrack. "Becky, it-it's not important-"

"Who is she?" Becky demanded. "I want to know who the _bitch_ is who's ruining my marriage! Tell me!"

Erik started to panic. "Becky, please. Can we just forget about this? We- we can go to marriage counseling, we can work this out between us, it doesn't have to be like this-"

"Is she a prostitute?" Becky guessed randomly. "Is this like Pretty Woman and I'm the third wheel? The inconvenient wife? Who is she!"

"N-no, she's not a prostitute, Jesus..." Erik stammered, wiping the sweat away from his forehead. "Becky, please, calm down. Do you want something to drink? I can make you some tea, if you'd like-"

"I don't want any goddamn tea!" She bellowed. "I want to know who the hell she is, Erik!"

They stared each other down and Erik tried to hold his guard. "I can't tell you that, Becky," He said in a shaky voice. "I'll do anything else you want me to do, but I won't tell you who she is."

"Is she another professor?"

"No."

Becky closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, they were wet. She bit her lip and tried to stop the shaking of her hands. "A student," She whispered. "It has to be one of your students." She looked up, and Erik couldn't hide his guilt. "Is she some young, beautiful genius? The next Nobel Prize winner? Best in the class, something like that?" Becky demanded bitterly. "Is the sex good? Is she better than me? Does she make you come?"

"Becky, please," Erik pleaded, covering his face in despair. "Please don't do this."

"Tell me something!" she begged. "Just something, so I can know what she does that I don't! So I can know why I wasn't good enough for you! Is she in your math class? She has to be, that has to be it- that's your type-" She stopped talking to herself and looked at him expectantly. "Tell me, Erik. Is that it?"

He turned his face away at the last minute, but it was too late. She had already seen his expression; the Death Stare had already gone into effect. "Oh my God," She breathed. "Oh my God. Erik- Erik, don't tell me you're having an affair with one of your undergraduate students." She felt the sobs starting again, and she covered her mouth in horror. "Erik, I swear to God, you tell me now-"

"Yes," He whispered.

"Oh my God!" Becky cried in horror. She stood up from the table and kept her mouth covered, almost like she was about to throw up. Erik reached to her to try to steady her, but she shoved him away. "Don't touch me!" She screamed. "Get out of my sight! They're _kids_, Erik! They're younger than Alex! Jesus Christ-" She didn't bother concealing her sobs, and simply yelled through them. "How old is she? Tell me!"

"Becky-" Erik held up his hands in self defense and took a step backwards.

She raised her hand and slapped him with all of her might. His mask crashed to the floor, and shattered into tiny little pieces. The edge sliced his cheek when she struck, and he felt the cool sting of a cut on his cheek. "TELL ME!"

"She's- she's seventeen," Erik confessed pathetically.

Becky screamed. Her eyes widened and her hands flew to her mouth. Upstairs, Erik heard Zack crying in his room. Suddenly, Becky's hands fluttered on her face, and the look of shock was replaced by a look of horror. "I know who it is!" She cried. "Oh my God- it's Christine, isn't it? Christine Daae, the little babysitter girl? Is that it? You're having an affair with Christine?"

Erik backtracked until his six plus feet were cornered against the wall by Becky's five feet five. "She's pregnant," He whispered. He knew he could never, ever forget his wife's face at that moment. It was a montage of shock, disgust, horror, and betrayal. Her hands stayed glued to her face, and she finally let the sobs wrack her shoulders and overpower her, until she could no longer stand. She slowly slid down the wall, her face still frozen in shock.

"Becky-" Erik crouched down and pleaded with his wife on his knees. "Becky, please, please listen to me," He reached out and gently touched her shoulder, but she suddenly made a vicious noise in the back of her throat and slapped his hand away.

"Get out!" She demanded, climbing to her feet. "I want you out of my house _now_!"

"Becky, please, don't be rash, what about Zack?" Erik pleaded, trotting right at her heels. Her tears were fading now; all he heard was angry, determined breaths. They started climbing the stairs, and Erik heard Zack still crying. "Zack's crying-"

"Zack can cry for another five minutes," Becky sniffed, storming into their bedroom. She yanked open Erik's sock and underwear drawer and dumped everything in the middle of their bed. "Did you bring her here too, Erik?" She cried, angrily gesturing to their bed. "I can't believe I was so _stupid_- Jesus, that's why you didn't want her to babysit Zack!" She threw up her hands impatiently and stormed into the closet.

She came out with a handful of his shirts, suits, and shoes, and dumped them on the bed as well. "She's a _child_, Erik!" She cried, grabbing the roots of her hair. "Am I going to see you on the next episode of 48 Hours? Is this some sort of secret fantasy you've harbored all these years?" Her face suddenly darkened, and she pointed her finger in his direction menacingly. "I swear to _God_ if you _ever_ touched Alex-"

"How _dare_ you accuse me of molesting my own daughter?" Erik bellowed, his mind immediately flashing to a blurry image of a big burly man raping a baby Christine.

"Don't you _dare_ try to make me feel guilty, Erik!" Becky screamed, grabbing a pair of her shoes and chucking them at him. "I don't know what to think! I don't know what you're capable of! I don't know what else you're hiding! I don't know _you_!" She burst into sobs and steadied herself on the edge of the bed. "Take your things and go. Take everything and leave. I don't want to see you, and I don't want you around my son."

"Becky, you can't take my son from me." Erik said in a low voice. He tried to hide the trembling in his vocal cords. "You can't keep Zack away."

"Oh can't I?" She hissed. "I will do whatever is best for my son, and if that means keeping him away from his-" She choked out the words; "_Pedophile_ father, then so be it. Now take your things and get out!" She stormed across the room and he heard her enter Zack's room, crooning and comforting him tearfully.

Erik numbly dumped his clothes into a duffel bag from under the bed. He had nowhere to go; why would he? He would have to get a hotel for the night. Night. Week? Month? Forever? He had to call Christine. He wanted her to stay with him, no matter how selfish that might be. He needed her warm little body, and freezing toes, and long curly hair, and big blue eyes to keep him company.

"Becky?" Erik called in a low voice. He slowly walked into Zack's room, and his son's droopy eyes suddenly brightened up and he lifted his head from his mother's shoulder.

"Daddy!" The toddler called excitedly. "Daddy, you say goodnight? You and Mommy yelled."

"Hey, Mr. Zacky," Erik smiled painfully. He set his duffel bag down and cautiously walked inside. "Come here and give Daddy a hug." He knelt down and held his arms open for his son. Becky let Zack go with her lips in a tight line and a vein in her jaw twitching angrily.

"Zack, Daddy's going away for a little while," Becky said, struggling not to cry. "Say goodbye and give him a kiss goodnight."

"Daddy, where you going?" Zack asked in concern. "I come too? Mommy come too? Cesar come too?"

"No, Zack," Erik choked. "Just me, I'm going to go away for a little while. Just for a little while; you'll be a good boy for Mommy while I'm gone, right? Be nice to Cesar? We don't pull his tail, right?"

Zack shook his head with wide eyes. "Nice," He declared. "Nice nice. Zack play nice; you and Mommy don't play nice, you was yelling."

"You _were_ yelling," Erik corrected, trying to blink the tears out of his eyes. He pulled his son against his chest and inhaled the scent of his hair, like Johnson's Baby Shampoo and baby powder. Baby powder like Christine.

"Come on, Zack, let's go back to bed," Becky whispered, pulling him away. Erik kissed his forehead and pulled him into a hug one more time. "Zack," Becky repeated a little louder. "Zack, it's bed time."

"But I want to go with Daddy," Zack whined, turning big baby eyes on Becky. "Daddy's crying, I want to go with Daddy."

"No, Daddy's not crying," Erik lied, smiling falsely, wiping his eyes discreetly. "Mommy's right, it's bedtime, come on, I'll tuck you in." He set the toddler in the bed and pulled the blankets up to his neck. He handed him his favorite stuffed animal- a rooster, Erik would never forgive Alex for buying it- and kissed his forehead again. "I love you, Zack."

"I love you too, Daddy," Zack murmured, hugging Coq (why Alex had to go on and give the rooster his equivalent name in French, Erik did not know. Probably to torture him for all eternity.) "Coq says goodnight."

"Goodnight, Coq." No matter how many times he said it, it never got easier.

Becky met him outside, in the hallway. She silently shut Zack's door, crossed her arms, and then stayed stock still. Erik got the hint; case closed, not negotiating, time for you to go. "Becky, please tell me I can come back," He pleaded in a low voice. "I'm sorry about this, I know I've made a terrible mistake, but I'm doing the best I can to do right by everyone now. Please, Becky."

"I don't know, Erik," Becky whispered shortly. "But right now I want you to leave."

"Ok." Erik whispered. He took his bags and trudged down the stairs, through the house, and into the garage. He dumped his things in the backseat, started the car, backed out of the garage, and started driving to the school. He grabbed his phone and dialed Christine.

"Hmpggghhf," A muffled voice mumbled from the other line. The voice grunted.

"Christine?" Erik whispered. "Christine... wake up, sweetheart. Wake up, it's me."

"Hmmm..." She yawned and blinked in confusion. It was dark outside, and she was all alone. Professor was talking to her on the other end of the phone. "Professor?" She yawned again. "What-sa-matter..."

"Can I see you?" His voice cracked. He sounded so _pathetic_. "Please, I need to see you, Christine."

"Now?" She asked, still blinking in confusion. "But it's so late- early- late. It's bedtime!"

"We'll go straight to a hotel and you can sleep all day tomorrow," He promised. "No school, I'll let you skip. I'll buy you room service and movies and whatever you want. Will you come?"

"No school?" She was waking up now. "No gym class?"

"No gym class. No gym class all week, if you want. I'll speak to the professor for you. You can skip my exam- you can skip your gym exam too, I can arrange that-"

She closed her eyes again and her head thudded against the pillow. "Ok." She yawned. "Okey dokey."

"Meet me downstairs in five minutes, alright? And bring some clothes, and whatever else you need."

"Where are we _going_?" She wondered, slowly climbing out of bed. She shuffled across the room, slipped on her fuzzy pink ballet slippers and pulled on her chunky knit cardigan over her pink nightgown. She grabbed her book bag and started throwing things inside, not bothering to fold or check anything.

"Just come downstairs. I'll see you in five minutes." _Click._

"Five minutes," She grumbled to herself, stuffing a pair of panties on top of a pair of jeans. "Not enough time to pack my stuff... hmph. No gym class. I hate gym. I hate basketball. Basketball's stupid, that's what I think..."

Five minutes later, Christine trudged down the stairs and outside into the cold frosty air with her book bag, still wearing her pajamas and slippers. She had just thrown on her pink pea coat on top of everything. "He's not even here," She muttered grumpily. "And it's cold outside. He better come soon. I'm sleepy. And I'm hungry too. Hmph." She grunted again and pouted at the snow.

He arrived seconds later and quickly blasted the heat for her sake. "Thank you for coming," he whispered. He grabbed her hand, kissed it, and tried not to cry. He hated feeling so emotional. Mid-life crises sucked; maybe he would write a thesis on the topic, after his life was destroyed.

He went to a Holiday Inn in town that was practically empty but still annoyingly overpriced. The concierge was an annoying man who bore a remarkable resemblance to Gerard Depardieu as Obélix and kept staring at Christine's thighs and behind.

"Now, that's for twoooo, you saaaid?" He sang lazily. "And how old is the young lady?"

"What difference does that make?" Erik demanded. "She's my daughter; she's seventeen. I want a king size bed with a cot for her. She's tiny, she doesn't need a big bed." He finished gruffly. "I can't sleep on anything smaller than a king."

"Oh- hmm," The concierge pursed his lips and tapped his ugly broken nose with his pen. "Well, sir, it's not policy to give cots for _king_ size beds, normally we only do that for _queen_ sized bed rooms-"

Erik sighed. Christine had wandered off to stare at the fish in the big tank by the elevator, stopping all the men around her in their tracks with her teensy little nightie and big fluffy curls. "Fine," He groaned. "Whatever. Queen. And a cot. For my- daughter."

"Are you two on vacation?" The concierge sang sweetly as he made the reservation.

"No."

"Visiting family?"

"No."

"Friends?"

"No."

The concierge gave Erik a sugary smile and handed him the receipt. "Please sign here, sir," He sighed. "It must be one of the above- why else would you be here, at our lovely hotel?"

"My house- is getting painted!" Erik blurted, scribbling something and grabbing the key. "Thank you, goodnight!"

"Goodnight, sir. Have fun!" The concierge smiled wider.

The elevator ride was silent. Christine was still half asleep; she kept scratching something on her thigh and shifting her weight from foot to foot. When she crossed her legs and bit her lip, Erik raised his eyebrow. "Is everything alright?" He asked courteously.

"I gotta pee," She said flatly, dancing in little circles. "Are we almost there?"

The elevator dinged. "Yes," Erik replied. "Shall we?" He took her back pack and handed her the key; she flew down the hallway in her fluffy pink slippers and finally made it to the room. He followed a second before the door slammed and heard her sigh gratefully as she sat down.

"I have to pee _all_ the time," She whined as she washed her hands. "And my tummy hurts. All the time. And so do these-" She cupped her breasts through her cardigan and frowned petulantly. "And I'm sleepy. But I'm hungry first."

"Cheeseburger?" Erik smiled, taking her hand and leading her to the bed. The cot rested small and white in the corner. He pulled the covers down and stripped down to his boxers. She giggled and pulled him on top of her.

"Cheeseburger," She mimicked in a deep voice. "Guess what." She peppered kisses along his jaw line and tickled the edge of the new mask he was wearing. She pulled it off and kissed his half-nose.

"What."

"I love you," She whispered, pushing him down, onto his back. "Professor?"

"Hmm?" Erik opened his eyes.

"Can the baby hear us?" She whispered conspiratorially. She touched her stomach anxiously, and glanced at his half naked body longingly. "Or is the baby sleeping?"

"Christine, I don't think the baby has ears yet," Erik confessed. "I think the baby looks like a baby frog right now, to tell you the truth. Or maybe a fish; some sort of sea creature. The baby is... always sleeping right now."

"Does the baby ever wake up?" She wondered. "Doesn't it get bored?"

"It's too little to get bored," He explained. "Babies like to sleep; that's all they do when they're little. They eat and sleep."

"What does the baby eat?"

"The baby eats whatever you eat," He said. "It has a cord coming out of its belly button called an umbilical cord, and it's connected to you, so whatever you eat, the baby eats too. If you don't eat, neither does the baby. Understand?"

She wrinkled her nose. "What does the baby look like?" She asked. "Does it look like me? Like you?"

He smiled tiredly. "I told you, the baby looks like a tadpole. It's very very tiny; that's why you're still so skinny. In a few more months, you'll get very large because the baby gets bigger too."

"I'm going to get fat?" She demanded, suddenly sitting up in bed. "Why? I don't want to get fat! How fat?"

"Very fat," He growled in a menacing tone. "You'll have to _waddle_, like a _duck_." He grabbed her waist and playfully bit her shoulder. She squealed and flailed, and finally bit him back. "Ow!" he complained, grabbing his ear. "I didn't bite you _that_ hard!"

"Yeah, but you said I was going to get fat," She sniffed.

He shrugged. "You are."

"Yeah, well-" She crawled onto his tummy and gently pulled off his mask. She kept her eyes open until they crossed, and kissed him softly. "You're half ugly." She tickled his burned side and kissed him again. "Half ugly, half pretty."

"You got me there," He murmured, kissing her back.

She pulled back and rested her cheek on his chest. "Hey Professor?"

"Hey, Christine."

"Why are we here anyway?" She wondered.

"Becky found out," Erik sighed. "You got us all sick, Christine. She has gonorrhea and chlamydia, which means so do _I_, which means so do _you_. She kicked me out of the house when I told her you were pregnant."

Christine's mouth formed an O of surprise. "Is she mad at me?" She fretted.

Erik raised his eyebrows. "Well, I'm not sure if either of us are her favorite people right now... she's angry at me, though. I think she knows I should've been the responsible one. I _should_ have been the responsible one. You're not even old enough to smoke."

"Smoking is bad for Baby," She declared, patting her stomach.

"That's right," He smiled wearily. "How did you know that?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm not _dumb_, you know," She sighed. "I know _some_ stuff."

"That's good. You have to make sure you eat enough, and sleep enough, and don't drink, do drugs, or smoke, or do anything else that could hurt Baby. You'll make a nice couple a Mommy and Daddy, and they'll want a nice, fat, healthy baby, right?"

"Are you going to leave me?" She wondered. "After there's no more Baby?"

"I love you," He replied. "I'm never leaving you."


	32. Not Normal

Strangely enough, life soon settled down and went back to normal in Middletown, Connecticut. Well, as normal as things could be with Erik and Christine. Especially Christine. Erik sincerely doubted that anything could ever be completely normal if Christine was involved in it.

He realized very quickly, as the weeks passed by, that Christine was not exactly morally or religiously opposed to having an abortion. He didn't think she was particularly attached to the baby inside of her either- the reason she didn't want an abortion was because she was absolutely _terrified_ of getting one.

He continued to try to convince her to go back to the clinic, edgily cognizant of the looming cut off day, when abortion would no longer be an option at all. They didn't have much time, and even though he had broken down and agreed to adoption, that wasn't going to stop him from trying to convince her otherwise.

"It's a very quick, simple procedure, sweetheart," he crooned, rubbing her back in circles the way she liked. "It takes fifteen minutes, tops, and then they give you a lollipop and you'll be done."

"But I don't want to," she whined. "I'm scared. It's going to hurt. I hate that dress. I don't like the doctor. The table is cold. I don't want to get naked again."

Erik continually wondered to himself if maybe, for some reason, the cold operating table and paper gown reminded her of some long lost, buried memory of sexual abuse, from her father or whomever else might have taken advantage of her. He didn't doubt there were many. After finally taking about her father with him, she continued to let slip more names, men, throughout her life, who had done the same thing.

"My soccer coach made me put it in my mouth," She mentioned one night in bed. "He said he liked it when I gagged."

Erik had to gag, after she told him that. He ran to the bathroom and retched up everything he had eaten for dinner. Christine trotted after him, still naked, her face marred with concern. "Professor?" She asked. "Are you ok? Did I do something wrong? Are you mad? Are you sick?"

"Christine- Jesus Christ, go put some clothes on, you're going to get sick!" He ordered gruffly, unable to stare at the body he had just made love to.

He stayed in the Holiday Inn for another week, still feebly hoping that Becky would invite him back to his house, but no matter how many times he called and begged her and apologized, she refused to budge.

"Are you still seeing her?" She would ask coldly.

"Becky, I _can't_ leave her, she's _pregnant_-"

And then she would erupt into a fit of sobs, curses, 'I-don't-believe-it's, until Erik apologized meekly and said he would call again tomorrow. In the meantime, he moved into a long-term motel a few miles from the school and tried to make life as normal as possible.

Christine didn't like the motel; she swore she saw a rat one night, and tried to find as many excuses as possible to not stay with him since then. "Why don't _you_ stay with _me_?" She asked, looking in the direction of her dorm longingly. "My room is nice and clean, _and_ we can play with Baby and my Barbies."

"Christine, I'm a _professor_ at that school, I can't just take up with one of my students in the dorms!" He snapped. "What do you expect, you, Meg, and I all living together like one big happy family?"

She shrugged uncertainly, as though she were thinking, 'Why not?'

So weeks passed, and Erik stayed in his little hovel, bribing Christine with Barbies, candies, ice cream, whatever it took to make her stay with him as much as possible. The deadline came and went, and she officially began her second trimester without gaining more than two pounds, at most.

"Maybe you're really not pregnant," he murmured hopefully one night, ghosting his lips over her still small, tender breasts, and concave belly. "Maybe it's all just a mistake..."

Two weeks later, a strong _thump_ from inside her belly in the middle of the night miserably changed his mind. "Whoa!" She squeaked, jerking awaking and blinking in confusion. "What the heck was _that_? Did you hit me? Why did you hit me?" She rolled over and punched his shoulder.

"Ow!" He complained, rubbing his shoulder. "It wasn't _me_, it was _you_!"

"Why would I hit myself, dummy?" She snapped, pushing him to the edge of the bed. "You can be really dumb, sometimes."

When Erik realized she was around fourteen weeks along, he finally broke down and made her an appointment with an obstetrician. He decided not to tell her until the day of, and when she asked, just smiled and said they were going out for ice cream.

When they arrived, and Christine saw several pregnant women walking in and out, she turned to him in panic. "This is a doctor's office!" She wailed, turning around and running back to the car. "I don't want to go to the doctor!"

"Christine, wait, come back!" He called, jogging after her. She hid behind his car and squatted down. Erik rolled his eyes; did she really think he couldn't see her? "Christine..." He cajoled, easing around to the back of the car like he was coaxing a stray kitten. "The doctor just wants to take picture of the baby, honey, that's all. Come out, please."

"I'm not stupid!" She cried. "The doctor can't _see_ the baby, because it's still inside my tummy! Duh!"

He couldn't help it. He leaned his forehead against the back window and started laughing. "Christine, he's not going to use a regular Kodak, he's got this ultrasound machine that's going to take pictures. It's like an X-ray machine that can see through your tummy. I promise nothing bad is going to happen."

She slowly emerged from behind the SUV, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "You promise?" She murmured, wringing her hands and looking sinfully adorable in her wool winter cap with bright pink pom-poms dangling from the top. Those baby blue eyes... how could he have _not_ gotten her pregnant?

"I promise, Princess," He crooned. "Are you my Princess? My pretty, pretty Princess?" He tickled her chin and smiled as she tried to fight it. "Who's my Princess?"

"_I'm_ the Princess," She sniffled grudgingly, crossing her arms across her chest. She marched across the parking lot ahead of him and waited at the door. "And don't you forget it, Mister!"

The waiting room couldn't have been more perfect if it had been designed by Christine herself. The walls were painted a soft mauve, and the room itself wasn't much bigger than her dorm. There were two very serene looking pregnant women reading magazines propped up by their massive bellies sitting on the beige suede couches, and Erik could see the fascination in his baby doll's eyes.

He gave the receptionist their name, and he was given some forms to fill out. Christine quickly settled herself next to the lady with the larger belly, and picked up a magazine as well, unconsciously adopting the exact same pose as her neighbor. Erik rolled his eyes; sometimes he felt like he was watching his toddler; monkey see, monkey do.

"When are you due?" The lady next to Christine asked with a wide smile. She had honey blonde hair tied into a chic ponytail; she couldn't be older than thirty. Erik sighed, and wondered why he was the only sucker that got old.

"Do?" Christine asked with wide eyes. "Do what?"

Blondie laughed and touched Christine's knee. "_Due_!" She repeated. "Your baby!"

"Um, we're not sure yet," Erik cut in charmingly. "This is our first visit- we'll find out everything today. Is it a boy or a girl?" He asked, smiling at her stomach.

She rubbed her belly and sighed peacefully. "A boy," She crooned. "It's so nice of you to come along, you know. My husband always has work, he only came to the first appointment. Do you have any kids already?" It was directed at Erik; nobody in their right mind would ask Christine if she already had children.

"Yes, actually, a boy and a girl," Erik smiled proudly. "Alexandra and Zachary."

"Oh, what beautiful names!" Blondie sighed again. She continued to rub her belly indulgently. "How old are they?"

"Zack is going to be three in August, and Alex just turned twenty five," Erik replied. Christine was pouting into her magazine, angry at the lack of attention she was getting.

Blondie gasped. "Twenty five!" She cried. "No way! There's no way you're old enough to have a twenty five year old, you must have started incredibly early! Twenty five? I don't believe it," She shook her head resolutely. "My husband had better look like you when Junior here turns twenty five," She declared.

Erik blushed and couldn't help but preen a little bit. Christine set her face into a stony pout, set her magazine back on the table, and planted herself firmly at his side. She just realized he was the only man in the whole room; even the secretary was eyeing his behind, she could tell.

"Pro-" She began. He pinched her thigh while still smiling at Blondie. "Ouch!" She hissed in his ear. "What was that for?"

"Don't call me that in public," He said through gritted teeth. "It looks bad."

"Where's my ice cream?" She demanded, crossing her arms again.

He frowned in her direction. "Don't start pouting with me, or you won't get any ice cream. _And_ I'll take away Jazz Diva Barbie. Do you want me to take away Jazz Diva Barbie?"

Her mouth dropped in disbelief and her eyes filled with tears. "No!" She whimpered, clutching his thigh. "I don't want you to take her away-"

"Then stop pouting and be a good girl. Look, the doctor's here already. Doesn't he look like a nice man?" Erik stood up as an elderly man with a full head of thick white hair walked in the door and smiled pointedly in Christine's direction.

She swallowed uneasily and hid behind Erik, blinking distrustfully at the kindly old man.

"Christine?" The doctor asked a warm voice. "Please follow me." He led them into an examination room and invited Christine to sit on the paper covered leather table. "My name is Doctor Wilbur, and I'll be taking care of you throughout your pregnancy. It's very nice to meet you." He extended his hand and Christine shook it delicately.

"Dr. Wilbur?" She repeated. "Like the pig."

Erik closed his eyes in mortification and passed his hand over his face. "_Christine_!" He moaned.

Dr. Wilbur laughed and nodded. "Exactly, just like the pig. You know, my nurse's name is Charlotte, and the receptionist's name is Fern. Isn't that funny?"

Christine giggled and nodded. "I love that book," She said. "It's my favorite. I love Charlotte; I cried when she died."

Dr. Wilbur gently eased into taking her blood pressure and measuring her heartbeats as Christine continued to babble on and on about Charlotte's Web. Erik couldn't help but marvel at the doctor's skill; he had to have been a pediatrician at one point. He was fantastic with, well, _kids_.

"Deep breath in now-" He held the stethoscope over her lungs and listened carefully. "Good girl- deep breath out... fantastic. Now I have to do a quick check here-" He easily motioned to her breasts and she nodded with big eyes. "Can you take off your t-shirt and bra for me, please?"

Erik awkwardly moved into a far corner of the room with his hands full of her coat, hat, and mittens. He tried to stay cool, but he couldn't help but feel extremely bothered as he watched Dr. Wilbur the Pig feel up _his_ baby doll, cup her breasts, massage and squeeze her puffy pink nipples; it was annoying, but bizarrely arousing as well.

"Professor!" She demanded. "I need my bra now!"

Erik's face got hot as he silently handed his student her A cup bra. "Here you are, Christine," He squeaked hoarsely. He kept his gaze trained on the floor and tried not to catch the doctor's eye. Could this be any more embarrassing? He doubted it.

"Oh, you'd be surprised what kind of couples I get in here," Dr. Wilbur chuckled quietly as he pulled the stirrups out of the table. "Don't ask, don't tell. Now, Miss Christine, might I ask you to remove this lovely little skirt and your panties so I can get a better look at you? After this, we'll hook up the machine and see the baby, how does that sound?"

"Ok," Christine agree with a shy (was she flirting too? Was she?) smile. She unbuttoned her skirt, and slid it down with her butterfly panties; Erik caught them before they hit the floor. He glared at her, but she didn't notice. Little traitor. All of a sudden, she had no problem taking off her clothes and showing this strange old man her Cha Cha. Erik moved to stand by her head as she laid down on the flat leather table.

"Hi, Professor," She beamed up at him, lacing her fingers through his. "How're you doing?"

"Not bad, Christine," He replied, patting the back of her hand. "And yourself? Is everything-" He gestured to the doctor looking very busy between her legs. "Alright?"

Her eyes widened suddenly and she squeaked; her thighs shut together instinctively, and then eased apart again. She winced and squeezed his hand tightly. "It's so cold!" She whispered. "Ouch." The doctor worked quickly, and finally stood up to finish the pelvic exam. Two fingers inside, one hand pressing her belly gently... gently...

"OH!" Christine cried out suddenly, her eyes rolling back and her back arching. She bit her lip, and Erik recognized her expression in horror.

"Christine!" He whispered helplessly. "Stop doing that, we're in a doctor's office!"

"Ohhh..." She murmured, gently rolling her hips forward. Dr. Wilbur quickly extricated his fingers from between her legs and coughed awkwardly. Christine opened her eyes and blinked uncertainly; Erik silently reached over and pulled her thighs together.

"Well, now, I'll just go and get the nurse; be right back, you two," Dr. Wilbur said, quickly shutting the door behind him.

"Professor?" She whispered, scrambling to sit up. She covered her mouth in horror and tears filled her eyes. "It was an accident- I didn't mean to, I swear, I couldn't help it! Am I in trouble?" She wailed.

He shook his head and helped her back into her panties and skirt. "No, you're not in trouble, sweetheart, I know it was an accident. Now let's just get dressed and wait for the poor doctor, ok?"

"Gabrielle," Christine whispered, leaning over in her overly-large purple robe. "Gabrielle, guess what."

"What," Gabrielle muttered under her breath, not moving her lips in an art perfected with years of practice. The pastor continued to preach, and Christine continued to wriggle on the bench impatiently.

"There's a baby in my tummy," Christine whispered giddily. She quietly passed the older girl a wrinkled up photo; Gabrielle unfolded it in shock to find a sonogram. "But I can't tell you who put it there. It's a secret. Oh, hey, it's your turn to sing!" She pointed out as the pastor announced Gabrielle's solo.

Gabrielle stumbled to the podium with glazed eyes. She was still clutching the sonogram in her right hand; she nervously tried to remember the words to her song. The organ started up behind her, and the gospel choir started to clap in unison. "I want Jesus to walk with me..."

"You sang so pretty, Gabrielle!" Christine said enthusiastically after mass was over. "Here, I got you a glass of Pepsi and a doughnut." She handed her an extra large chocolate frosted doughnut with sprinkles, and despite herself, Gabrielle took it thankfully. "Um, do you think I could please have my picture back?" Christine added with a fidgety smile.

Gabrielle handed her the photo in disbelief. "S-sure, Christine, here," She stammered. Christine snatched it back and carefully tucked it into her bra with a happy expression on her face. "C-christine, what in the world?" Gabrielle whispered urgently. "You're _pregnant_?"

Christine nodded and patted her flat belly. "Uh-huh!" She replied proudly. "There's a baby in my tummy. Hello, Baby!" She called, bending her head and speaking to her stomach.

"Christine- I- I don't know what to say!" Gabrielle spluttered. "I mean- congratulations, I guess! Was this planned? Who's the father? Are you getting married? What are you going to do?"

Christine blinked and shook her head with a serious expression. "I can't tell you who put Baby in my tummy," She whispered. "It's a secret. I'm going to give Baby away to a nice family, but not yet, I have to wait until Baby's ready to come out."

"Why can't you tell me who got you pregnant?" Gabrielle demanded suspiciously. "Why is it a secret?"

"It just... _is_..." Christine waffled, shuffling her feet around. She looked up and beamed. "Did you like my picture?" She took it out of its hiding place again and smiled proudly.

Gabrielle frowned and gently turned the picture right side up. Christine kept smiling obliviously. "Why would it be secret? Did he tell you not to tell? Do I know him?"

Christine shrugged uneasily. "He said he would get in trouble... I don't want him to get in trouble, Gabrielle," She said gently. "We went to the doctor and the doctor took a picture of my tummy! I can't really tell where Baby's face is..." She squinted and held the sonogram closer. "Actually, I can't really tell where Baby is at all, but the doctor told me it's there. I have to wait five and a half more months before Baby's ready to come out."

"Five and a half months?" Gabrielle squeaked. "Christine, you're already almost four month pregnant?"

"Yep yep yep," Christine chattered, still rubbing her belly unconsciously. "Pro- I- um, I'm going to get fat," She said matter of factly. "I'm going to waddle like a duck. Quack."

"Well, you're not going to get _fat_," Gabrielle laughed. "People usually don't call pregnant women fat; it's not nice. Besides, it's just the baby inside, it's not like you're the one who's getting so big! So tell me everything! When's your due date? You'll stay in school, right?"

"Um... the doctor said July," Christine replied. "My birthday is in June, you know. I'm going to be eighteen."

"July, wow," Gabrielle gasped. "So you're going to have a summer baby! But you're giving the baby up for adoption, right? Are you sure? Are you doing open, closed, what?"

"Pro- I- um, can't have a baby," Christine mumbled. "I have to give Baby away. I don't have anywhere to live, and I don't have a job, and I can't take care of Baby, and I don't have any money... Baby's going to go to a nice family with a Mommy and Daddy as soon as Baby comes out."

"But do you want to give the baby up?" Gabrielle pressed suspiciously. "The father would have to pay child support if you don't stay together and you choose to keep it, you know. It's not like you would have to take care of the baby all by yourself."

"Child support?" Christine repeated faintly. "What's that?"

"It's when a couple breaks up or gets a divorce or something, and one parent has custody of the baby, and the other one has to send regular payments to supplement the child's care," Gabrielle explained.

Christine blinked and scratched her head uneasily.

"It's when the Daddy pays the Mommy to take care of the baby," Gabrielle said in exasperation. "The Mommy isn't the only one who has to pay for the baby, you know. It's the Daddy's responsibility too."

"But what if the Daddy doesn't want the baby?"

"It doesn't matter. He made a baby, and he has to support the baby." Gabrielle said firmly. "If you decide not to go with adoption, of course."

"Lisa? Yes, hi, it's Becky- oh, yes, it's nice to hear from you too. Book club? Oh no, actually I just called- no, _really_ Lisa, thank you, but I've already read Lolita. I have absolutely no desire to read it again. I actually called to speak to Raoul about something... is he there, or at school? Ok, thank you."

"... Mrs. Destler?" Raoul answered nervously. "H-hi there, how are you, ma'am?"

Becky took a deep breath and anxiously continued to smooth the photo in her lap. The Wesleyan cheerleading squad smiled at her, each one wearing a a tiny black and red uniform and white sneakers. Christine Daaé was kneeling in the front row. "Hello Raoul, how are you dear?"

"Um, f-fine," Raoul replied. "Thank you for asking."

Becky took another deep breath and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall from the corners of her eyes. "Raoul, I wanted to ask you something-"

"If it's about my paper, I _swear_ to God my dog ate it, Mrs. Destler!" Raoul cried suddenly, clutching the phone with enormous intensity. "I swear, I wrote it, I wrote it about Jane Austen, because- because my mom's book group was reading Pride and Prejudice last month, and my sister rented Becoming Jane, and I swear, it was really good, but my dog was sick, and I don't know why, he's so stupid, he chewed it up! And that's why I never turned it in. Please tell Professor Destler not to fail me, ma'am, my dad would _kill_ me-"

"Raoul! Raoul- Professor Destler is not going to fail you, I promise. He's been a little _distracted_ lately, I'm sure your paper is the last thing on his mind," Becky said, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. "I actually just wanted to ask you about Christine."

"Christine?" Raoul repeated in disbelief. He clutched his heart and shook his head. "She broke up with me! A couple of weeks ago, she just started avoiding me, and out of nowhere she dumped me!"

"She broke up with you?" Becky asked carefully. "I'm only calling because... well, because she babysits for us from time to time, and I haven't heard from her in quite a while, so..."

"She broke up with me!" Raoul continued brokenheartedly. "I don't know why, I thought she liked me. She even stopped coming to gym class- besides Professor Destler's class, that's the only class we have together. She just stopped showing up. Now I only see her in Professor Destler's class, but she moved to the front of the room and she never talks to me or anything."

"She still comes to my husband's class?" Becky asked sharply. "Why wouldn't she stop going to that class too, if she wanted to avoid you?"

"I dunno," Raoul shrugged moodily. "Well- actually, I guess maybe there's another reason she stopped coming to gym class," He admitted. "I don't think she likes Mr. Farlow very much, to tell you the truth."

"Mr. Farlow?" Becky repeated in surprise. "Dave Farlow?"

Raoul shrugged again and cupped the phone against his chin. "Yeah, I guess. I think he's kind of a pervert, actually. He's always like, standing behind the girls when we do warm ups, stuff like that. I remember a month or two ago he kept asking Christine to see him inside his office. She told me he was 'spooky.' Professor Destler never does stuff like that, he's really cool. I think Christine likes him a lot."

"Is that right?" Becky snapped. She slapped her hand to her forehead and took a deep breath. "I mean, well, that's a good thing, I suppose, that my husband isn't too spooky for her... do you think, Raoul, that there was anything inappropriate going on between Mr. Farlow and Christine?"

Raoul scratched his head. "Uh- well, I dunno, I mean... I know Christine really didn't like him, so if there was anything going on, he was probably pushing it, if you know what I mean. Wait, do you think that jerk like- _did_ something to her?" He suddenly demanded indignantly. "'Cause if he did, I swear-"

"Raoul, does Christine have... a _reputation_ at all for... _any_thing at school?" Becky asked delicately. "You know... maybe with the teachers or something?"

"What, no way, everyone loves Christine." Raoul declared. "She's not a slut or anything, if that's what you mean, I mean she's only seventeen-"

"Seventeen," Becky moaned under her breath. "She's just a child... how old are you, Raoul?"

"Uh, twenty," He replied sheepishly. "But I looked it up and the age of consent in Connecticut is seventeen, so technically I wasn't doing anything wrong, Mrs. Destler. Ma'am." He swallowed.

"Yes, dear, I know you weren't," Becky replied distractedly. "Well... thank you, Raoul, you've been a great help. I'll make sure to tell me husband about your paper; I hope you enjoyed Becoming Jane. I thought the ending was terrible. Good-bye."

After she hung up, Becky took another deep breath and cradled her face in her hands. She didn't know what to think. For as long as they were married, Erik had never looked twice at another woman. He was the ideal husband; considerate, loved his kids, intelligent, quiet, even shy. She knew he was self conscious about the burns on his face, but as long as he kept covering them, she never saw a problem. She wondered if he let Christine see him without his mask; the idea made her sick to her stomach.

Was Christine just a cunning freshman who wanted an A without having to work for it? Was she an innocent young victim of Dave Farlow and, as much as it hurt to imagine, Becky's own husband? Or was she something in between, a Lolita who walked the line of knowledge and innocence?

"Child support?" Erik demanded. "How do you know about child support?"

"I'm smart," Christine replied snippily. "Do you think I'm dumb or something?"

"No- I of course I don't think you're _dumb_, I just- who told you about child support?" He asked in frustration. "Where did you learn about that?"

"Gabrielle told me," Christine replied, picking a thread on his sweater. "She said... it's 'regular payments to supplement the child's care.'" She looked up, and quickly looked down again to hide the smile on her face from seeing his expression. "Close your mouth, Professor. You're going to catch flies."

He snapped his mouth shut and blinked at her in shock. After a moment, however, he raised his eyebrow and smiled confidently. "Spell _supplement_," He challenged her.

She opened her mouth, but then quickly shut it again. "You're annoying!" She cried, grabbing a pencil sharpener and chucking at him. He ducked and it clattered to the floor, below his desk. "Look at what you made me do!" She complained petulantly. She jumped off the desk, got on her knees, and pushed his knees out of the way. When her hand touched his thigh, he couldn't help it; immediate hard-on.

"Christine... would you like to sit on my lap, darling?" He asked hopefully, taking a curl in his fingers and tugging gently. He eyed her behind appreciatively as she continued to look for the pencil sharpener... crawling more and more under his desk.

"Professor!" A tortured voice suddenly cried. Erik's door was swung open without even a knock. Raoul stood in the doorway looking distraught. "Have you seen Christine?"

"C-c-c-christine?" Erik stammered, rolling his chair forward and subsequently squishing Christine beneath the desk. "I-I-I uh, don't- well, um, no." He blinked and smiled beatifically. "No. I certainly have not."

Christine perked up at the sound of her name, and Erik felt her wiggle around and try to climb out to see what was going on. He kept smiling at Raoul and deftly reached below the desk and pushed Christine's head back down. She struggled against him, but he smiled wider and pushed harder.

Raoul let out an anguished sigh and half-collapsed against the door-frame. "I can't find her anywhere, and I have to talk to her. It's extremely important; I just figured she might be hanging out in here or something... I guess not."

Erik nodded silently.

Raoul threw himself into the chair in front of Erik's desk and groaned. "D-do you know, I mean, like, what's going on?" He asked helplessly. "Has she said anything to you? Not that she would talk about us or anything, but you know, sometimes people talk to their teachers and stuff, like... about stuff."

"She has not... talked to me about stuff, Raoul," Erik said sadly. "I'm sorry to say. What is it you want to talk about with her?"

"Well, she- she broke up with me, Professor," Raoul confessed. "I don't know why, out of nowhere she just stopped coming to gym class, stopped calling me, she's even been avoiding me. And I mean... I know it's been a few weeks, but I had an eziffany-"

"Epiphany."

"- last night, and I realized..." He leaned over the desk and grabbed Erik's hands in his. "I love her, Professor! I'm still in love with her! I can't live without her, I can't take it!"

Christine started wiggling ominously beneath Erik's desk; he nudged his knee against her head to warn her to be silent. "Raoul," Erik began with difficulty, delicately pulling his hands away. "I hate to say this, but... maybe it's just time to... move on. Find someone new."

Christine pinched Erik's ankle and he flinched.

"Move on?" Raoul wailed. "But- I love her!"

Erik swallowed uncomfortably. "Raoul, how old are you? Nineteen, twenty?"

Raoul leaned his head against his elbow dejectedly. "Twenty," He mumbled.

"Christine is seventeen years old, Raoul," Erik said sternly. "She's legally a child, and you are an adult. You're only twenty years old- you have decades to fall in love! Give it some time, and find someone a little older, someone your own age, mm?"

"But I can't move on," Raoul moaned. "After Mrs. Destler called last night, I realized that I'll never be able to move on-"

"Mrs. Destler called last night?" Erik repeated sharply. He moved his foot and accidentally stepped on Christine's hand; she squealed like a pig beneath his desk.

"Whoa, what was that?" Raoul asked in shock, craning his head to try to look beneath the desk. "It sounded like a pig or something."

"It's nothing!" Erik blurted. "It's just- my chair squeaks. Sometimes. You know, when it's angry, hungry, that sort of thing." He smiled and Raoul scratched his head. Erik sighed; joke went right over the poor boy's head. "Raoul, what were you saying about my wife calling you?"

"Well yeah, I mean I figured you knew- oh my God, wait." Raoul's eyes widened to saucers. "Professor, did she tell you about my Jane Austen paper? Because I swear I did it, but my dog-"

"Yes, yes, she told me everything Raoul," Erik fibbed impatiently. "What did she say? Why did she call you?"

"Well, she was asking about Christine," Raoul replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She said that Christine babysits for you, but she hadn't seen her in a while, and I guess she was just wondering how she was doing and stuff..."

"And stuff!" Erik snapped. "What else did she say, Raoul?"

"Uh well... well, I told her that Christine kind of stopped coming to gym class- please don't rat on her, Professor, I don't want to get her in trouble or anything. I said I thought she stopped coming because she was avoiding me, but then Mrs. Destler was like... why wouldn't she stop coming to _your_ class too, and I was like-" He stopped suddenly and leaned forward. "I really don't want to get anyone into trouble, Teach," He said in a hushed voice. "And I'm only telling you this because I think you're pretty cool, you know what I mean?"

Erik nodded solemnly and leaned forward as well. "Of course Raoul, everything you say to me will be kept in strict confidence. Now please, go on."

"Well, I said that maybe she stopped going to gym class because Mr. Farlow kind of freaked her out, you know?" Raoul said, raising his eyebrows significantly.

Christine started hitting Erik's legs under the desk and wriggling harder than before. Erik's face flushed and he took a deep breath as he tried to calm down. "What do you mean, he kind of _freaked her out_, Raoul?" Erik asked slowly.

"I mean, Mr. Farlow's a pervert, dude!" Raoul cried, slamming his fist on the desk. Christine jumped and grabbed Erik's legs tightly. "He used to like, watch the girls doing stretches and sick shit like that. He used to ask Christine to 'see him in his office' all the time."

"... all the time?" Erik repeated hoarsely.

Christine thumped her head against Erik's thigh.

"Yeah..." Raoul shook his head. "I wish she would stop _avoiding_ me though, I just want to ask her to give me another chance. I really think I could make her happy, you know? I mean, I could try at least... I dunno. Well, could you tell Christine to call me if you see her?"

"Of course, Raoul," Erik said faintly. "Have a nice weekend."

As soon as Raoul closed the door behind him, Erik exhaled and grabbed two handfuls of his hair by the roots. Christine hadn't moved an inch; he didn't want to think about what that meant. He tried to wrap his head around everything that he had just heard. Becky was apparently scoping out the competition by way of Raoul, the lovesick wonder, who had no idea what was really going on, and one of Erik's friends was secretly tapping Erik's pregnant baby doll?

"Christine...?" Erik finally sighed. "Will you please come out from under there?"

She slowly crawled out from under his desk and sat at his feet like a submissive little puppy, her head down and everything. "Maybe I should go home..." She whispered nervously, climbing to her feet slowly when he said nothing after several minutes. "I have to take my vitamins-"

"Is- what Raoul just said true?" Erik demanded, suddenly standing up and grabbing her shoulders. "About Dave Farlow?"

She tucked her chin into her chest and squeezed her eyes shut. "I want to go home," She whimpered.

"Answer my question! Has anything happened between you two?"

She shrugged and kept looking away. His grip tightened and his breathing quickened. "Christine!" he shook her slightly. She rattled and moved like a little rag doll; he immediately felt bad, but he had to know. "Tell me!"

"Yes!" she blurted with wide innocent eyes. She blinked and bit her lip, then wrapped her arms around his neck. "Kiss me?" she begged nuzzling her cheek against his.

Erik felt blood rushing through his ears and struggled to remain calm. "What- what do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.

"Huh?" she mumbled noncommittally as she clung to his neck tightly. Her kisses felt desperate. "Take off your shirt," she whispered, gently clawing at him. "Take off your clothes."

"No, Christine!" he burst out angrily, pushing her off of him. "What happened between you two?" he demanded. "Tell me!"

"I-I stayed after class once or twice, that's all-"

"You stayed after class, what the hell does that mean?" he snapped. "Did you have sex?"

"N-no..."

"Then what?" he exploded. "Did you give him a blowjob?"

"Yes..."

"Why?" Erik roared, pacing angrily. "Do you do this with all of your teachers? Am I just- one in a long line of stupid idiots to fall for it?"

"N-no!" She wailed, covering her face with her hands. "Please don't be mad at me, Professor, please! I didn't mean to, I swear-"

"What do you mean, _you didn't mean to_?" Erik bellowed, kneeling down to her level and getting in her face. "How can you not mean to suck his dick, Christine? Tell me!"

"He made me!" She wept. "I didn't want to! He told me I had to! He said I would get in trouble! He pinched me and he pulled my hair and he said I missed too much class and the only way I would pass was if he gave me extra credit. He said I just had to suck it and I would pass his class. I _hate_ that class!" She wrapped her arms around herself and buried her face in her thighs.

Erik was hyperventilating. He felt it and he tried to stop it, but he couldn't. He took a deep breath and paced the short length of his office a couple of more time before suddenly sitting down next to Christine on the couch.

She flinched and started crying harder. "Don't be mad at me," She begged. "I love you."

He grabbed her hands and she hiccuped; she was hyperventilating too. "Christine-" He gasped, pressing kisses to her fingers. "I'm sorry- oh honey, I'm sorry. Please forgive me- I didn't mean to yell at you- oh Christine..." He kissed her forehead frantically and pulled her against his chest. "He made you? He hurt you?"

"You believe me?" She hiccuped in shock.

"Yes, I believe you, of course I believe you," He moaned, rocking her gently. "I went- I went crazy, I thought- I don't know, I just heard what Raoul said and then what you said. That bastard- I want you to tell me right now what he did to you."

Her lower lip trembled and he brushed it in impatient concern. "He made me," She repeated through sniffles. "He told me to stay after class one day, and then he said I missed a lot of class. He said he was going to fail me and if I failed his class I would get kicked out of school. And then he pulled my hair and started pinching my arm-"

Erik held up his hand and nodded. "I get it," He whispered hoarsely. "Oh Christine... why didn't you tell anybody? Did you keep going back? Why didn't you say no?"

"I didn't want to get in trouble!" She cried. "I didn't want him to tell on me."

"For what?" Erik cried. "For being a victim of sexual assault? Sexual harassment? Christine, that's _not your fault_. What he did- it's _illegal_, Christine, do you understand that? It's not supposed to happen! What can I say to make you understand that? What your father did, what your soccer coach did, what Mr. Farlow did- it's not normal, and it's not ok." He stood up and started pacing. "If someone touches you, or says something to you that makes you uncomfortable, you have a right to say something, Christine."

He bent down to eye level with her. "Don't you remember anyone explaining the difference between good touches and bad touches?" He pleaded. "Did anyone tell you that?"

She shook her head and for the second time that day, the door swung open without a knock. Erik angrily stood up to confront the interloper, but upon seeing it was Meg, he quickly looked down and took several steps back. "You know, Miss Giry, I would appreciate it if you would knock-"

"I'm sure you'd also appreciate it if I kept my mouth shut regarding your little arrangement, Professor," Meg snapped back. "I _beg_ your pardon; I promise I will knock next time. Christine- what- why are you crying?" She narrowed her eyes at Erik. "Did you hit her _again_?"

"Go away," He hissed. "I do not like you."

"I don't like you either!" She replied, rolling her eyes. "I need Christine; you two will have to finish this powwow another time. Christine, Sauna and I need your help with something at her apartment, can you come with me?" Meg turned to Erik as Christine gathered her things. "Has she eaten today?"

Erik crossed his arms and nodded. "I bought her a sandwich," He grunted. "About two hours ago; she'll probably need to eat again soon, even if she says she's not hungry. The doctor said she's not putting on as much weight as she should- it's the second trimester, and-"

"I can't _believe_ you're letting her go through with this," Meg hissed. "I still don't see why she couldn't just have an abortion and be done with it."

"Because she was scared out of her wits!" Erik protested. "And besides, I knew it was going to be painful, why would I put her through that, if she didn't want to?"

Meg threw up her arms. "So you just let her have a baby?"

"We're giving it up for adoption," Erik sighed. "It's just as good. She'll have it, give it to a nice Catholic family and we'll never hear of it again. Is that good enough for you?"

Meg muttered to herself in disgust as she turned to Christine, still looking as skinny as a ten year old. "Christine, say goodbye to your sugar daddy," Meg snapped irritably. "I'll be in the parking lot waiting for you with Sauna."

"Are you mad at me?" Christine murmured after she left, rushing to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. "About Mr. Farlow?"

"Never," He kissed her temple. "I want you to stay away from him, do you understand me? I don't care if you have to skip class everyday, I'll take care of it. Just stay away from him and if he does anything at all that you don't like, I want you to tell me immediately. You can always say no, Christine."

Erik sat back down at his desk after she left and exhaled. He felt such red hot anger inside of him that he was sure his face was beet red. He thought about Dave and having dinner at his house, and Melanie, and the football game, and poor Christine getting pinched and not knowing how to say stop, and he felt the desire to kill pulse through his veins.


	33. A Pedophile

"Where are we going?" Christine demanded in a bored voice. "I'm hungry. And you promised you would buy me ice cream. Where's my ice cream already?"

"Christine, enough with the ice cream," Erik sighed, leaning his elbow against the window and steering with one hand. "I swear to God, the next time I hear you say a word about ice cream, I'm going to rip every single head off of every single Barbie doll you own. Is that understood?" She gasped and turned to him in indignant shock. He shrugged and pointed at her menacingly. "Try me."

Two minutes later, she silently pinched his thigh. He swerved and barely missed an oncoming station wagon- who drove station wagons anymore?- with a swearing mother and what looked like a horde of six Catholic children in the back. "What the hell is that matter with you?" He yelled, grabbing her ear and yanking it. "I almost killed us, Christine!"

"You're _hurting_ me!" She wailed, scratching his arm. "Stop pulling my ear! I'm not a baby! Get off!"

"You have to learn how to start growing up, Christine," he warned with an ominous glance at her still flat tummy. "You won't be the baby anymore soon, you're going to have a real baby that you can't pinch or yell at when you don't get your way."

She crossed her arms in a way that declared 'she wasn't listening.' "Where are we going." she asked flatly.

"I'm going to pick up my son from daycare," Erik sighed. "Becky hasn't let me see him- this is the only way. I'm going to take him to the park for a little while and then drop him back off at home. Ok? Do you have homework? Did you already do it?"

"I don't have homework," she replied loftily. "Can we get ice cream at the park?"

He pinched her thigh, and she yowled.

Zack and Christine were already good friends; it only took a few shy minutes of re-introduction and fighting to hide behind Daddy before they were both climbing on the monkey bars and racing across the playground. Erik felt like the word PEDOPHILE was stamped across his forehead.

After about thirty minutes of watching his son and lover play together on the swings, his phone started to ring. _Becky, Becky_... "Hello?" he answered cautiously.

"Where's Zack?" She demanded angrily. "Why did you take him?"

"He's with me, Becky, I just picked him up early from daycare, that's all-" Erik began defensively. "You haven't let me spend any time with him at all since this whole thing started!"

"I wonder why!" She yelled. "Maybe if you were a _normal_ man who was having a _normal_ midlife crisis with some bank teller over thirty five I wouldn't be acting this way! But you got a seventeen year old girl pregnant, you pig! Who knows what other sick shit you-"

"Becky, I am not a pedophile!" Erik bellowed. He suddenly glanced around the park and covered his face when he saw several young mothers staring at him in horror. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. "Becky, listen to me," He started again in a low voice. "I know that I've made some very bad decisions in the past couple of months. I don't expect you to forgive me. But I'm begging you to listen when I tell you that I am _not_ a pedophile, and I am _not_ a threat to our son!"

"How do I know that?" Becky asked. She had started to cry softly. "I don't know that, Erik! All I know is that you cheated on me- that you _broke_ your wedding vows- with a girl I trusted to watch my son. A girl who is younger that our own daughter. Do you know Alex was almost nine years old by the time Christine was born? What do you _expect_ me to think, Erik?"

"I'm still your husband, Becky," He pleaded. "You know me, even if I've made some mistakes. I'm just having a hard time-"

"Well, what about me?" She cried. "You're not the man I married- I don't know what happened to that Erik. And I'm not going to sit back and watch while you get what you want from her and then come back begging me to trust you. I'm not going to be your fool, Erik, and I'm not going to wait forever. You need to make a decision- who is it going to be?"

He hesitated- too long, and Becky knew she wasn't going to get an answer. "Bring Zack home now, Erik," she sighed. "I think you've had enough time with him; is she with you?"

He swallowed and glanced up at Christine swinging upside down on the monkey bars, exposing her sparkly purple belly ring to all of the sex starved daddies in the park. Zack was hopelessly trying to jump up and reach the bars too, but he was far too small. "Yes," he replied hoarsely. "They're playing on the monkey bars."

Becky pressed her palm to her forehead and stifled a sob. "Well, I'm glad you're having fun with your two children!" She spat. "Bring my son home _now_!"

"Daddy, you come home now?" Zack asked as they pulled up in front of their big brick red house. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Zack," Erik whispered. "I miss you more than you know, son. I'm sorry about this- things will get better soon, I promise you. Can you unbuckle your seat belt for Daddy?" Zack obeyed clumsily, and Erik got out to help him.

"Christine come home too?" Zack asked hopefully as Erik picked him up and gently set him on the driveway. "I like Christine; she's my friend."

"I know you like Christine, but right now Daddy and Christine did something not nice and Mommy is a little mad at us. It's not Christine's fault though, it's Daddy's fault. Can you understand that, Zack?" Erik asked seriously, squatting down to be level with the toddler. "And it's not your fault either, ok? Nothing is your fault."

"Mommy's mad at Christine?" Zack asked in confusion. "Mommy doesn't like Christine?"

"Mommy's mostly mad at Daddy, but she's a little mad at Christine too," Erik explained with difficulty. He hesitated before saying the next thing- how much information was too much? "You know how you see Mommy and Daddy give kisses and hugs?"

Zack nodded obediently. "And you kiss me too," He added. He pointed to his cheeks and forehead. "Here and here. Not on the lips- ew!" He scrunched up his face and shook his head. "You kiss Mommy on the lips."

"Exactly," Erik nodded. "But the kisses I give Mommy are different from the kisses I give you, right? Just like there are bad hugs and good hugs? Well, Daddy kissed Christine where he only should have kissed Mommy, and now Christine has a baby in her tummy. Got it?"

Zack's eyes widened and he glanced back at the car in shock. "Babies come from kissing?"

"No!" Erik groaned and took a deep breath. "No, not exactly. You don't have to worry about where babies come from. I'm just trying to say that Daddy should have only been kissing Mommy on the lips, but he kissed Christine on the lips too, and now Mommy is angry."

"Daddy's adulterous," Zack said solemnly.

Erik's eyes widened in shock. "Where in the world did you learn that word?" He demanded.

"Mommy said it on the phone," Zack shrugged. "She was crying. We go inside now? Mommy's there." He pointed to the door, and sure enough, Becky was standing there with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Erik didn't dare look at the car where Christine was in the passenger's seat.

"Ok, I'm going to let you go inside with Mommy now," Erik said, standing up and leading Zack to the door. "I'll see you again this week, ok Zacky?"

Zack nodded obediently and beamed when he saw Becky. "Hi Mommy!" he exclaimed. "We went to the park and played on the monkey bars!"

Erik knew not to say anything from the look on his wife's face. He gave Zack a kiss goodbye, and silently walked back to the car.

"Professor," Christine purred as they neared the turnoff for the school. "I don't want to go back to my dorm tonight; I want to stay with you." She leaned over the armrest and pressed a moist kiss to the space right behind his ear, where his throat began.

He shuddered involuntarily and gave her a weary smile. "Why are you being so nice to me?" he asked suspiciously, taking the road to his motel instead. "What do you want?"

"I want you," she breathed, giving him another kiss right above his collar. "I want you to touch me tonight; will you touch me tonight? I love you so much..." Her right hand reached over and gently rested on his chest, before moving downwards maddeningly slowly.

"You don't want anything?" he murmured dubiously. The motel was the next turn-off, and he could already feel his pants getting tight. Christine's tiny little hand inching her way below his belt did nothing to help him. Finally, he turned and parked.

"I just want you," She whispered, as sweet and supple and cuddly as a a kitten. "Take me inside and kiss me, please?"

He did, maybe a bit too eager, but she didn't seem to mind. He hurriedly put up the Do Not Disturb sign, just in case, and pressed his baby doll onto the lumpy mattress gently. She mewed and slowly wrapped her legs around his waist; he frantically pulled off her pink Convereses and reached under her dress to pull off her panties.

"No, no, wait," she whimpered when he started unzipping his pants before removing his belt. "Make me naked, I want to be naked with you. I want to touch you."

He sucked in a deep breath and pulled off her dress, leaving her in a flimsy pink bra that showed her puffy pink nipples easily. He rolled her on top of him so that he could unfasten her bra and helped her pull off his own shirt. "When I'm naked with you," she breathed, slowly pulling his pants off, "I feel like nothing bad can happen to me. Is that silly? Do you still think I'm pretty?"

"Wha- of course, Princess," he crooned, pulling the blankets over them. "You're beautiful, why would you even ask? It's not silly to feel safe- I want you to feel safe with me, always. Always, always, always..." He lifted her thighs and pushed inside of her with a groan.

"Please don't leave me," she wept quietly. "Don't ever leave me, Professor, I don't know what I would do without you-"

"Hush, sweetheart, I'm never leaving you," he promised breathily. "Relax, shh, take a deep breath-" She obeyed and he kissed her collarbone tenderly. "I love you, and you're safe with me. Don't cry-" He pressed his lips against her tears, and she pulled off his mask and pressed her cheek against his.

Between them, they suddenly felt a sharp thump. "What was that?" Erik asked distractedly, pausing inside of her for a moment.

Christine's tears started again and she wrapped her legs around his waist as tightly as she could. "It's Baby," she whimpered, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. "It's our Baby." She pressed her hips against his and wriggled to give him the hint. When he started moving again, she closed her eyes blissfully. "Daddy," she moaned.

"No, Christine!" Erik cried desperately. His thrusts continued and he reached down to cup her bottom. "I'm not your Daddy," he protested, trying to ignore the tears burning in his eyes and letting his finger touch her between them. "I'm not your Daddy."

"I wish you were," she sobbed, as shudders and contractions passed through her body.

"Christine, I made an appointment with someone for you," Erik whispered hesitantly as she flipped through the limited channels on the little black TV. "For tomorrow."

"An appointment with who?" she asked uncertainly, crawling back to the safe circle of his arms. "Why? What kind of appointment?"

"An appointment with a very nice man named Dr. Smirgel," Erik replied. He wrapped the blankets around her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "It's just so that you can have... someone to talk to. He's there to help you talk about things you might not be able to talk about with anyone else. What do you think?"

"But I can talk to you," she smiled sweetly. She twirled her finger in his hair and kissed the corner of his mouth. "I don't want to talk to anyone else!"

"But I really think this would be good for you, Christine," He insisted gently. "Especially-" he looked down and swallowed uneasily. "Especially with everything that happened when you were younger- you know, sometimes we forget about things, but they still manifest in other aspects of our lives..." She was wrinkling her nose; that meant 'do not understand.' "I think you should talk to someone about what your father did to you, and I don't think I'm the best person for that." He clarified.

"I don't want to talk about that anymore," she mumbled sullenly. "Daddy's dead, Daddy left me. Mommy's dead, Mommy left me. But my Professor is still here..." She smiled again and somehow worked her way into his lap. "Professor won't leave me, right?"

"No, Professor won't leave you," he sighed in defeat. "Will you give it try tomorrow, Christine? Try to talk to Dr. Smirgel for me?"

"For you, Professor," she kissed his cheek. "Okey dokey."

"Christine Daae? Ms. Daae?" The receptionist smiled when Christine stepped forward shyly, pushed slightly by Erik behind her. "Dr. Smirgel is ready for you, dear. Please follow me." She turned to walk down a long hall, and Christine turned around and waved to Erik like a lamb being led to slaughter.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart, everything will be fine," he urged her before she left. "I'll be here the whole time in case you want to stop, ok?" He wasn't sure how much she heard; it looked like she was just concentrating on walking forward and squeezing her fists together.

"Hello, Christine!" Dr. Smirgel greeted her as she stepped inside the office uncertainly. He stepped forward and shook her hand enthusiastically, gently guiding her to a couch in the center of the room. He took a seat in an armchair besides her. "My name is Dr. Smirgel and I'm here to talk about whatever you want to talk about."

"Um... hi," Christine whispered hesitantly. She looked up and smiled sweetly. "I'm Christine. It's nice to meet you."

"I know!" Dr. Smirgel laughed. "It's nice to meet you too. Tell me a little about yourself, Christine. Why are you here?"

"My p-professor made the appointment," she replied. "He said he wanted me to have someone to talk to about things I can't talk about with other people. He wants me to talk about my daddy." She whispered the last word, and it was clear that even if her professor wanted her father to be discussed, Christine did not want to talk about it at all.

"Ok then," Dr. Smirgel nodded shortly. "That sounds good to me. What else can you tell me about yourself?"

"I'm going to have a baby," she smiled shyly. "There's a baby in my tummy, see?" She pulled up the bottom of her T-shirt and revealed nothing but a flat tummy and a sparkling belly ring. "Baby's supposed to come out in July. My birthday is in June, you know."

"So if the baby's due in July, that means you're about four months pregnant already, right?" Dr. Smirgel deduced. "You're so skinny! I wonder when you'll start to show," He added with a warm smile. "How old will you be in June?"

"Eighteen," she declared proudly. "I'll be able to smoke cigarettes."

Dr. Smirgel laughed. "But you know cigarettes are baby for the baby, and for yourself. What does your Professor think about that?"

"He says we have to give Baby away," Christine replied softly. "He says Baby's going to go to a nice family with a dog and a pool in the backyard and I'm going to keep going to school. He says I can't keep Baby and neither can he."

"Is Professor the father?" Dr. Smirgel asked gently.

"He's Baby's daddy," she nodded. "He put Baby inside my tummy. He already has babies, you know," she added. "Well, I guess they're not babies- Zack is two and Alex is twenty-five. I don't like Alex, and she doesn't like me either. Professor forgets about me when Alex is around."

"Alex is quite a few years older than you," Dr. Smirgel observed. "How does she feel about the relationship between you and her father?"

"She doesn't know," Christine replied quickly. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone about Professor and me. Except Mrs. Becky found out- so now Professor has to live in a motel because she kicked him out of the house. Mrs. Becky doesn't like me anymore either," she added sadly.

"And who is Mrs. Becky?" Dr. Smirgel asked, as he began to take notes on a legal pad.

"Professor's wife," Christine said. "I like her a lot. She cooks and she's really pretty. Her hair is blonde and straight, but her eyes are blue like mine. She always smells like apple pie and vanilla."

"Straight blonde hair?" Dr. Smirgel asked. "She sounds like the opposite of you, doesn't she? How old is she?"

"Um, I don't know," Christine shrugged. "I think she's forty five or something. She's older than me, but younger than Professor. He just turned fifty, you know."

"So Professor is quite a few years older than you," Dr. Smirgel murmured, jotting away quickly on his legal pad. "Is he the first older man you've been in a relationship with?"

"No, everyone is always older than me," she replied in a bubbly voice. "Professor's fifty, Raoul's twenty, Mr. Farlow's forty something, Mr. Jones was _sixty_ something, Mr. Stewart was in his thirties, Mr. Richards was the same age as Professor, I think- Coach Jagger was twenty something-"

"Oh-ok, Christine, I think I get the picture," Dr. Smirgel stopped her with his eyebrows raised. "So you certainly have quite a repertoire, don't you?" She wrinkled her nose at the word 'repertoire.' "I mean you've been involved with a large number of men for your age, haven't you?"

She shrugged shyly. "I guess so," she giggled, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously in his direction.

Dr. Smirgel raised his eyebrow.

So every Tuesday, after a Monday of playing at the park with Zack and spending the night with Erik, Christine went to talk to Dr. Smirgel, whom she called 'Dr. Smurf.' Smirgel was simply too difficult to pronounce; Smurf was infinitely easier to remember.

Christine refused to tell Erik _any_thing about her sessions with Dr. Smurf, and would only offer that he 'told funny jokes' and 'used too many big words.' Erik was no fool- he knew there was always the possibility of Christine seducing any man she came into contact with, and the thought did plague his mind for the first couple of sessions when she would emerge beaming and skipping from the good doctor's office.

He chose a male doctor on purpose, however- he could tell that for whatever reasons, Christine was more comfortable around men than women. He figured it had something to do with men being easier to manipulate, but whatever it took to put her at ease, he was willing to do. And as her sex drive did not diminish in the slightest after starting therapy, he was content to stop worrying and trust her.

A day passed here and there, and suddenly Christine was over four weeks pregnant and still the size of a prepubescent twelve year old. Erik didn't understand it; Becky was already round and rotund when she was four months pregnant with Zack- _and_ Alex, come to think of it. If anything, Christine looked like she was _losing_ weight.

Unfortunately, constantly buying Christine vitamins and foot long Subway sandwiches in an effort to fatten her up was weighing heavily on Erik's now solo bank account. Ever since she had become a part of life, he had seen his saving get depleted little by little. Barbies, ice cream, goodies from Sephora, stuffed animals, candy, therapy- he had never imagined such little things could add up to so much money.

He was forced to start tutoring privately, after school in his office. He hated it and Christine didn't like it either, but it helped him supplement the third child he was feeding and caring for. She was convinced that he would get frisky with another student and 'start buying her Barbies instead' but Erik quickly assured her that he knew better by now.

One day when he was alone in his office, a rare occurrence, he finally got the guts to do something he had been thinking of for weeks. "Ms. Giry?" he began hesitantly when she answered her phone with a bitter, "Yes?"

"Can I help you with something?" she asked frostily. "Christine is _actually_ in class right now, and I won't let you pull her out. She's missed enough class already thanks to you, she'll be lucky if she gets all her credits this year."

"Yes, I know, and that's not why I'm calling," Erik bit back. "I called to ask you something else."

"You know I don't have that information," Meg replied immediately after he proposed his question. "And even if I did, I wouldn't be allowed to tell you- _why_ would I tell you anyway? Why do you want to know?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, the current situation isn't exactly working out," he said impatiently. "Something needs to be done about it. If you can't help me can you at least ask the person who can?"

"Fine," she sighed after a moment. "But only for Christine."

And so that was how Erik found himself at Mrs. Giry's small gray brick house later that week. Thankfully, Meg had told her mother in advance; the older woman was expecting him with a grim expression on her face and fingers clutched uneasily.

"Meg told me to expect an older gentleman asking some questions about Christine," she said suspiciously as she served him tea at her breakfast table. "What's this all about? Who are you?"

"Mrs. Giry, I can understand why Meg didn't tell you what my relationship is to Christine," Erik replied nervously. "It's best that I told you like this, in person. My name is Erik Deslter, and I am Christine's Comparative Literature professor at Wesleyan University."

She stared at him with one eyebrow raised as she pushed the mug of tea in his direction. "... and?"

"Christine is pregnant." Erik said flatly.

Mrs. Giry slapped her hand to her mouth in horror. "No!" she cried. "That's impossible- I've taken such measures to prevent this all these years- but she was doing so _well_, she even told me she had her prescription filled by herself-"

"By getting her birth control prescription filled, she meant 'buying a jar of candy vitamins' at Wal-Greens," Erik sighed. "She wasn't aware that there was a difference."

"You son of a bitch!" Mrs. Giry suddenly cried. "You're the father then? You got her pregnant? You piece of shit- you're my age, what business do you have with that girl? Do you have any idea what she's been through?" She stood up from the table and pointed to the door. "Get out! I'll call the police on you, statutory rape, raping a child, whatever I can get on you-"

"Mrs. Giry, please, wait," Erik pleaded. "Please listen to me- I came here to ask for your help. I have only Christine's best interests at heart, I promise you. Would Meg have sent me here otherwise?"

She glared at him in frank distrust, but the mention of her daughter calmed her down. "No," she finally admitted, sitting down again. "She wouldn't have. So what is this about?"

"Mrs. Giry, I know only the bare bones of Christine's history," Erik began. "Mostly from what Meg has told me- Christine herself has only brought up her father once in all of her time with me-"

"She told you about her father?" Mrs. Giry interrupted in surprise. "What did she tell you?"

"She told me that he... abused her," Erik said with difficulty. "That he touched her, that he hurt her, when he forced her to-" He coughed; he couldn't say it. He couldn't say _forced her to have sex with him._ "She told me her mother was _less_ than affectionate, and that her father allowed his friend to..." He cracked his knuckles anxiously. "_Share_ her._"_

Mrs. Giry stared at him in shock. "Christine... said all that to you?" she asked faintly. "Christine has never, ever, admitted anything about what has happened to her. All we know is from second hand accounts, and rarely, her father himself. She's never said anything."

"Mrs. Giry, I need your help," Erik said urgently. "Christine needs your help. I need to find her father."

It took begging. It took pleading. It would've taken bribing too, but Mrs. Giry refused to yield to that. Erik thought she would refuse outright, but finally, after much begging and much pleading, she caved. "Why are you even doing this?" she asked finally, lowering her face into her hands in defeat. "Who is Christine to you? A student you're sleeping with?"

"Christine gives my life purpose," Erik whispered. "Before I met her, things were different. Christine is such an amazing, strong girl-" He sighed and blinked furiously. "I don't know anyone who could go through what she has gone through, and still wake up with a smile on their face every morning. If her father hadn't done what he did, she would have been unstoppable. Even though he's ruined her chances of a normal life-"

"She still _can_ have a normal life!" Mrs. Giry interrupted fiercely.

"No," Erik replied firmly. "No, she can't, she can never be normal. She'll always be special, and she'll never live like a regular person. But that's what makes Christine Christine. That's why I love her."

"I can get in a lot of trouble for this," Mrs. Giry sighed. "I'm not supposed to be giving you this kind of information- I shouldn't be telling you anything about Christine at all. Especially not you! You're my age, this is just perpetuating the circle of dependence Christine relies on... you're just another father figure," She shook her head angrily. "But I don't know anybody who can help her! I can't help her forever, Meg won't always be there- she has no one, except- well, except for you. So go ahead, do what you have to do."

He had to take the day off on Wednesday. Christine protested the best way she knew how- sat on his lap and sucked a lollipop wearing only Winnie the Pooh panties and his large white Oxford. It was an ordeal for both of them to be convinced that _yes_, he really did have to go, _no_, he couldn't tell her where, and _certainly_ not, she couldn't come with him.

It was about a two hour drive from Middletown, Connecticut to Rye, New York. Erik sneered when he saw the address- could these people be any waspier? He had dreamed and wondered for months was Christine's parents would be like, but he never actually imagined he would meet them one day.

He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and clenched his teeth together. Visions of baby Christine being raped by a hulking WASP in a lavender sweater set plagued his mind, and he desperately hoped he would be able to control his temper. More images of Christine fluttered through his mind... a toddler with Shirley Temple curls and big blue eyes following her father and Mr. Mike up the stairs while her mother watch from a distance...

Erik shook his head and turned up the radio. _Toxic_. He wrinkled his nose- another example of an unfit mother was not something he wanted to listen to at the moment. He shut it off, flexed his grip again, and concentrated on the road.

The house was smaller than Erik imagined it would be. There was a neat green lawn and a tiny garden by the front door, a large oak affair with a shiny gold handle. He tried to picture Christine here, even though he knew it wasn't the same house she had grown up in. He couldn't see it.

He parked in the driveway; there was nowhere to park in the street, residential and tree lined as it was. There were no cars in the driveway beside him, but the garage door was closed, and it looked big enough to house two sedans. He shut off the car and took a deep breath, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. _Christine_.

"Professor!" she squealed in excitement. "Are you back yet?"

"No, honey, I'm not back yet, but I promise I will be by the time you finish class," Erik replied with a faint smile. "Is everything alright?"

"Baby keeps kicking me," she complained. "It feels like I have jelly beans in my tummy, it keeps rumbling and moving and kicking. I miss you. Baby misses you too," she added in a hesitant whisper. "I can feel it."

"Christine," he warned gently. "We're giving Baby up for adoption; you can't get attached, sweetheart. Please don't get attached."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "Well, _I_ miss you. What are you _doing_?"

"I'm just running some errands," he replied vaguely. He knew the phrase 'running errands' would surely end her curiosity. "Are you being good? Behaving yourself?"

"Yes," she groaned. "I'm not a baby!"

"Yes, you're my baby," he teased. "I just wanted to say hello. I'll see you after classes, alright darling? I love you."

"I love you too, Professor. Bye bye."

She was better than liquid courage. He suddenly felt an invigorating rush of strength flood his body after talking with her- he felt like he could do anything, if if was for Christine. Even if that meant confronting the man who had ruined her.

He rang the doorbell and bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously. After a moment, the door opened slowly and Erik was faced with the same big blue eyes he saw everyday of his life. They blinked, and a hesitant smile spread across the woman's face. It was Christine's mother.

"Yes, may I help you?" she asked politely, taking in Erik's shiny luxury SUV in the driveway and his expensive sweater set. She was attractive, in a Sally Field sort of way- Christine was an exact replica of her, except Mrs. Daaé's hair wasn't curly- it fell straight to her shoulders, in a style just like Becky's.

"Mrs. Daaé?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes, that's me," she replied. "What is this about? What is your name, sir?"

"My name is Erik Destler," he croaked. "I'm a professor at Wesleyan University, and I've come to speak with you and your husband. Is he available?"

"Why- yes, he was just giving our son a lesson in the living room," Mrs. Daaé replied bewilderedly. "Come in, please, I'll go get him. Just follow me into the living room-" She led the way and Erik followed behind, feeling like a live wire, like a spring waiting to be tripped. Their son? He swallowed and clenched his fists together to calm down.

The living room- the entire house, for that matter- was spacious and well lit, with classic furniture and simple still life paintings adorning the walls. It was a completely normal house in a completely normal neighborhood with a completely normal family. In front of the fireplace, a young boy was struggling to get through Vivaldi's Autumno. By his side stood a tall, regal looking man in slacks and a brown sweater. He looked like Clint Eastwood, Erik thought offhandedly. Everything down to the white hair was perfectly neat and ordered.

"Louder, Chance, you've got to play louder- there, that's it, _there_ you go-"

"Dear!" Mrs. Daaé called anxiously. "Excuse me for interrupting, but we have a guest. Can you take a break for a couple of minutes?" Mr. Daaé looked up at Erik in surprise and clapped his son on the shoulder proudly.

"Go on and practice in your room, son," Mr. Daaé ordered gently. "We'll continue in a little while." The boy nodded obediently and took his violin and music stand down a hall to the left, presumably to his bedroom. Mr. Daaé approached Erik and held out his hand. "Daaé," he said simply. "How can I help you?"

"Would you like something to drink?" Mrs. Daaé interrupted in a whisper. "I can make some tea or coffee, if you'd like."

"No," Erik said, a little gruffly. "No, nothing to drink, thank you. I only came here to talk to you both briefly, Mr. Daaé. My name is Erik Destler, and I'm a professor at Wesleyan University. I have some... questions to ask you."

"Well, alright," Mr. Daaé shrugged. "Have a seat on the couch here. Have we met before, Mr. Destler? Can I ask what this is about specifically?"

"How many children do you have, Mr. Daaé?" Erik asked softly, cupping his chin and looking up at the other man steadily. Mrs. Daaé took a seat on the divan diagonal from both of them; she wouldn't stop fidgeting.

"Just one, my son Chance," Mr. Daaé replied with a shrug. "Now what is this about? Is this one of those university studies? Are you going to ask me to press a button and torture people or something?"

Erik couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't pretend to be civil and politely decline tea and biscuits anymore, no matter how normal these people seemed. "I'm here about Christine!" he finally blurted. "Christine Daaé, your daughter!"

The Daaés exchanged glanced and Mr. Daaé slowly reclined in his seat. "Christine?" he raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't ring a bell."

Mrs. Daaé shrugged delicately and continued her knitting. "We don't have a daughter- only our son, Chance." She smiled beatifically and crooked her head to the side. "Are you sure you don't have us confused with some other Daaés?"

"Don't fuck with me," Erik snapped angrily. "I know Christine is your daughter, and I know what you did to her-"

"Listen, Mr. Destler," Mr. Daaé cut in, still infuriatingly calm. "What is this really about? Is this about-" He pulled out a large checkbook and held it open in front of Erik. "That's not a problem. I'm sure you can understand that my wife and I have a life here, and we don't care to have it disturbed."

"Christine's life is disturbed _every _day for what you did to her," Erik said in a low voice. "You've damaged her beyond repair- how can you live with yourself? How can you just pretend that she doesn't exist? Pretend that she never happened?"

"I've paid my debt to society for any transgressions I've committed in the past," Mr. Daaé said carefully. "And if that is all you have to say to us, I'd like you to leave now." He stood up and faced Erik with a stony mask of indifference. "Goodbye, Mr. Destler."

"Wait," Erik sighed helplessly. "Christine needs money."

"Dean Richards!" Erik thundered, storming into the office. "I have a bone to pick with you!"

"Erik, Erik, calm down," Dean Richards cried, standing up from behind his desk to confront the masked man. "What the hell is the matter? What's going on?"

Erik threw a packet on the Dean's desk and pointed to the opened page furiously. "This is what's going on, Dean! Dave Farlow is what is the matter!" He crossed his arms and started pacing the Dean's office, huffing and puffing like an angry hippo.

The Dean sat back down and silently pulled the packet towards him. It was a list of the entire faculty, with each name accompanied by a photo. Erik had circled Dave Farlow's photo in bold, red marker. The Dean sighed. "Erik, why don't you calm down and have a seat, hmm? Here, have a cup of coffee, I just made a pot, and take a deep breath."

"I don't _want_ coffee, I want you to do something about this!" Erik insisted, the visible half of his face still flushed red. "He's attacked a student! Molested her! Jesus Christ, maybe even raped her!"

Dean Richards' eyes widened and he glanced back down at Dave Farlow's picture. "Erik, you are making some very strong accusations here. Before we go any further, I want you to have a seat and calm down." He stared at Erik over his glasses and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. Erik felt like Christine, and finally sat down.

"Dean, Christine Daaé came to me the other day and told me that Dave Farlow forced her to perform sexual acts on him. I would like to make a formal complaint on her behalf," Erik said gracefully, his anger just barely boiling below the surface.

Dean Richards drummed his fingers on the desk and sighed deeply. "Erik, listen to what you're saying. Dave Farlow has been a well respected faculty members for years here. There's never been a complaint against him in his entire time at Wesleyan. Why don't you tell me about this Christine Daaé, hmm?"

"Christine is- well, she's my student, and Dave's student as well, obviously!" Erik spluttered. "I have two students who have come forward and confronted me about Dave, and they both said the same thing. He was inappropriately friendly and touchy with Christine during class, and he held her after class several times to force oral sex from her. Christine is traumatized! She's a victim of lifelong sexual abuse, and she gets _no_ justice, Dean! You have to do something about this!"

"Erik, I feel for her. I really do. But this situation..." he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hands together. "It's tricky, Erik. It's delicate. It's not as simple as you would like it to be."

"What's so goddamn tricky about it?" Erik bellowed, slamming his hand on the desk. "He assaulted her and he needs to be brought to justice!"

"What about you, Erik?" The Dean asked quietly. "What about justice for you?"

"What do you mean?" Erik asked, paling unconsciously. "What are you talking about?"

The Dean sighed again and shook his head. "I didn't want to do this, Erik. You're one of my best professors here, and God knows you're probably the smartest. I've never had any trouble with you about anything... well, at least not until now." He stood up slowly and poured them both a cup of coffee.

"I don't understand what you're getting at," Erik breathed.

"How's Becky, Erik?" The Dean asked. His tone was casual, but Erik had a feeling his question wasn't just a run of the mill pleasantry. "She doing alright? You guys ok? Alex doing alright, the little guy...? How's your house?" He sat back down slowly and pushed Erik the cup of coffee while staring him in the eyes. "Or has it been a while since you've been back there?"

"My marriage is none of your business," Erik hissed.

"It is if there's a student involved. An _underage_ student, especially," The Dean replied softly. "A student named Christine Daaé? Maybe that's why you're so mad about Dave? Because now both of you are involved with her?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Erik said flatly.

"Erik, before you ever came in to make a complaint against Dave, there was a complaint against you."


	34. that's all I ask of you!

"Becky!" Erik roared, slamming the front door behind him. "Becky, I know you're home! I have to speak with you please, if you don't mind!" He angrily dropped his briefcase on the floor and hung his coat up on one one of the ancient hooks Becky's mother had given them when they first bought the house. Just like old times.

There was no answer, but her bag was on the table by the door and her car was in the driveway, so he knew she was home. He stormed the stairs two at a time and pushed the door open to his former bedroom, not expecting the sight that greeted him.

She had just stepped out of the shower evidently- misty fog was floating from the bathroom, and she was wrapped up in nothing but a terry cloth towel. Was that his wife? Erik unconsciously took a step back- he wasn't prepared to confront her half naked. Or be so affected by the sight of his naked... wife.

"What are you doing?" he demanded stupidly, crossing his arms across his chest and eyeing her warily as she ignored him, cool as a cucumber, and began brushing her hair. She had cut it since the last time he saw her- she had bangs now. He resented how pretty they looked.

"What kind of a question is that, Erik?" She asked wryly. "I just took a shower. What are _you _doing here? You know I don't want you here, I kicked you out. Can I help you with something?"

"Well- well, yes, as a matter of fact, you can!" he spluttered, trying to wrench his gaze away from her legs as she propped one up on the bed and slathered on lotion. "You- you-"

"Yes?" she raised her eyebrow and calmly dropped her towel. She turned to face him full on and stared him down challengingly. "How can I help you? I thought you had your students to ah, _help_ you where I can't. Have you moved down to the local high school yet?"

"Becky, that is not funny!" Erik said angrily, jabbing his finger in her direction. "And- for God's sake, Becky, get dressed! This isn't a nudist colony, have a little decency!"

_Thwack!_ Went the lotion bottle as it soared across the room and smacked Erik on the good side of his face. "Have a little decency!" Becky repeated shrilly. "You come here, to _my_ house and tell _me_ to have a little decency because I just stepped out of the shower naked? You had sex with your student in our bed! PIG!"

"Becky, please, I can't- I can't talk to you when you're naked, can- c-can you please get dressed?" Erik pleaded, trying to avert his eyes as she walked closer to him. He awkwardly bent down to grab the lotion bottle, and when he looked up, he was face to face with... he gulped. "Becky-" he said hoarsely. "Becky, please-"

"What did you come here to talk to me about, Erik?" Becky asked softly. "Just tell me now so we can get this over with."

Erik slowly made his way to his feet and swallowed. "Have you told anyone about... this?" he asked. "Did you report me?"

She sighed and turned her back on him, and sauntered back across the room. "Why?" she asked casually. "Have you gotten in trouble? Has someone found out about you and your little girlfriend? That's a shame."

"Goddamnit, Becky!" Erik roared, marching up behind her and grabbing her shoulders roughly. He shook and spun her around; she shoved him away just as roughly and Erik actually stumbled in shock. Christine almost never fought back; at least her efforts were never more than laughable. Becky actually _pushed_ him.

"Don't you dare put your hands on me, Erik!" She warned, stepping forward and pushing him again. "I will _not _stand for it in my home! I'm glad you're finally getting in some sort of trouble for this whole, disgusting affair! Serves you right!"

"Was it you?" Erik yelled, grabbing her shoulders again. "Tell me!"

She squeezed his shoulders with her nails, but he was prepared this time and he refused to let go. They tussled, both refusing to let the other win, and suddenly Erik had her pinned beneath him on the bed, a fine sheen of sweat covering her forehead. "Don't touch me!" she spat, still trying to wrestle him off.

"You're still my wife!" Erik cried. "You hear me coming up, you just walk out here naked- you knew what you were doing, Becky! You can't say no to me, you can't..." he pressed his lips against hers and, expecting a bite, he felt her kissing him back in surprise.

"I hate you," she moaned against his lips. "You've ruined my life, you've ruined _every_thing, Erik, I hate you, I hate you..." Her hands finally left his shoulders and pulled up his sweater, then his shirt from his pants as she kept her lips pressed against his and he undid his tie.

"No, no," he murmured, pushing her higher on the bed and unfastening his belt. "You don't hate me, Becky, I _know _you don't, I'm your husband, Becky- I-" He pushed into her furiously and she let out a keening cry and shuddered around him. "Oh God, Becky, I-" he shuddered too and started thrusting furiously, aggressively, keeping his wife's hands pinned to the bed. "Did you report me? Tell me!"

"What does she _do_ that I can't?" Becky cried, wrapping one long bronzed leg around his waist and pulling him in deeper. "Why did you do this? What is it about her?"

"Tell me!" he demanded again. He grunted and sunk his teeth into her collarbone; she cried out and he felt contractions begin down below. "I could lose my job over this, Becky! Tell me!"

She came completely and refused to let her legs drop, instead keeping them wrapped around his waist. He groaned and spurted into her frantically, still angry, but something else now as well. "You're tenured," Becky breathed, her hands still pinned by her sides. "You would never lose your job there, no matter how many students you sleep with."

"Oh, Becky," he moaned, finally letting go of her wrists and letting his forehead collapse against her breast. She gently stroked the back of his head, like she used to do when they were first married, and let him stay collapsed on top of her, unmoving and heavy. He had to admit it- there was something there, an inherent comfort that came with making love to someone he had been making love to for half of his life. He couldn't erase a lifetime.

"Why did you leave me?" Becky whispered, trying to hold back tears. "What did I do, Erik? Why did you have to leave me? Come back to me, I love you..." She worked her face in beneath his and kissed him again, except this time there was no fury or anger- just pleading. "I love you, Erik, I'm your wife, you can't just leave me like this... you can't just leave Zack, he needs you! This is your _life_, Erik- do you think you'll be able to keep your job when the dean finds out she's pregnant and you're the father? Tenure can only take you so far-"

"I'm sorry," Erik breathed against her temple. "I'm sorry about all of this, Becky-"

"But it's not too late, Erik!" she insisted desperately. "If you come back to me now you'll stay at the University, you can just explain it away to the dean, we can just pretend none of this ever happened and things can go back to normal, Zack won't even remember, Alex doesn't have to know..."

"But what about Christine?" Erik whispered in a stricken voice. "She doesn't have anyone, I can't just leave her pregnant and alone with nothing-"

"She's seventeen years old!" Becky cried. "She has her whole life in front of her- if you end it now, she'll just remember you as a professor she slept with in college, nothing more. You can support her until she has the baby, give it away for adoption, and send her on her way!"

"But you don't understand, Becky," Erik moaned. "She's- she's troubled, it's more than her not having anyone, she's damaged-"

"Then why did you get involved with her in the first place?" Becky cried, sitting up and cradling her head in her hands. "Why? I don't _understand_! I-" she looked up and when she saw Erik's guilty, downcast face, she angrily shook her head and pushed him off of her. "Erik, I think you should go now. I have to take another shower and then pick up Zack, and I'm sure you have 'things' to do."

He obediently began getting dressed again, the room completely silent now that their little lovemaking session was over. "I didn't report you, by the way," Becky whispered bitterly. "But I know who did."

"You do?" he demanded. "Who was it? Tell me!"

"Dave Farlow," she whispered, belting her robe tightly. "I told Melanie about everything, and she must have told him." She crossed her arms and tucked her chin into her chest. "Dave probably told the dean to shake your credibility, in case someone found out about him and..."

"Him and Christine?" Erik exploded. "_Dave_ is the one who reported _me_ to the dean? Why the hell would you tell Melanie about this Becky? This is none of her business!"

"Because my husband cheated on me and I didn't know who else to talk to!" she cried. "Is that so terrible? Don't make me the bad guy, Erik! I had no idea there was anything between Dave and Christine before I told Melanie, I only found out after-"

"There is nothing _between_ them!" Erik spat. "Do you know what he did to her? He forced her to give him blowjobs and threatened to have her expelled! And now there's no way to have him punished because _my_ reputation is compromised, because you had to go and tell everything to Melanie, the rapist's wife!"

"Get out!" Becky screamed. "Get out! I will not have you making me feel guilty! If your reputation is compromised it is because you made a decision to have an affair with your student, not because I confided in a friend after you left me! Get OUT!"

He stormed down the stairs and didn't even stop to say hello to César, whining and begging for a treat by the door. This was great. Life was just peachy, things were going swell; his wife was ten steps closer to leaving him forever, he got a teenager pregnant, and he was that much closer to maybe, perhaps, loosing his job, depending on the dean's kindness. _Great_.

He tried to imagine life with Christine as he buckled into his car. Was there even a possibility of normality there? Was there a chance? What if they kept the baby? He inhaled deeply and tried to picture life without Becky, without Zack, without César and his big red brick house... and instead, life with a seventeen year old wife, with a newborn baby, in a one bedroom apartment, no more tenure, working in Mr. Smiley's like Lester Burnham...

For the first time since the entire affair began, Erik suddenly saw in stark light just what he was risking by being with Christine. His meeting with the dean was the catalyst- Becky was right, Erik would never lose his job for sleeping with a student, but he could very well lose it for getting Christine pregnant, and worse- doing it publicly. No dean liked a scandal, and that was exactly what Erik's relationship was threatening, _especially_ if word got out that Christine was pregnant.

Could he really give it all up? Was it worth it? He would never, ever have a normal relationship with Christine, that was obvious. He would always have to be her daddy and her lover, and the boss, and her teacher, and daddy to another baby, and he just turned fifty years old... he never planned this. Zack was the first straw- a completely unplanned glitch in carefully constructed retirement plans. In another twenty years, he would be seventy years old and Christine wouldn't have even hit forty yet.

_Ring ring_... it was Carroll Baker herself. Erik let out a heavy sigh and thought about not answering; he thought about walking back inside of his big red brick house, begging Becky for forgiveness, and pretending like nothing had happened. _What about poor Christine?_

"Hiiiiiiya!" she giggled when he answered. "You miss me? I finished classes and I don't have _any_ homework today, isn't that cool? Are you done with your errands? Will you pick me up?"

"I'll come pick you up now," Erik replied softly, as he frowned and tried to rub away his headache. "Christine, I have to talk to you about something very important. Where shall I get you?"

"What did I do?" she asked nervously. "Am I in trouble?"

"Never," he promised. "I'll be there in ten minutes. Will you be ready?"

"Yes, Professor," she whispered. "I'm in the football stadium; no one's here, you can come inside if you want. I love you, bye bye..."

He was there in ten minutes, just like he promised, and the football stadium was empty, just like she promised. She stuck out like a sore thumb, a bright pink bundle with curly dark hair against the cold gray metal of the stadium seating. She was balancing on the edges of the seats, walking backwards and forwards with her arms extended out like wings. "Christine!" he called. She looked up, and he waved her over.

"Hi Professor!" she called, jumping down each step with a large clang. He would never get over how young she looked- how in the world did he ever get involved with her? Was he so desperate and attention starved that such an obviously pubescent little girl had seduced him? She ran up and threw her arms around his neck; he had no choice but to lift her up and spin.

"How's my baby?" he grinned, giving her a kiss on her nose. "How was class? Did you do all of your work, no flirting or sleeping in class?"

"I did _all_ of my work," she said proudly. "And I didn't flirt with anybody and I didn't even fall asleep once! _And _I got an A on my math test! Isn't that great?"

"That's fantastic!" he agreed, settling her comfortably against his hip. "What are you learning now?"

"We're learning about logarithmic functions, but it's _so_ easy," she rolled her eyes. "I get As on all of my tests, you know, I'm really good at math. I could even take _your_ class I bet!" She giggled and kissed his cheek over and over again; each time she pressed her freezing nose against his skin, he shivered.

"That is easy," he agreed, walking them around the perimeter of the stadium. "But my class is hard. And my class is pretty useless, to tell you the truth. Unless you want to be an astronaut or an old professor like me, there's not much use for mathematical physics in everyday life, Christine."

"I would take the dumbest class in the world just to hang out with you more," she replied softly. It sounded simple, but from Christine's mouth, Erik almost felt like she was reciting poetry. He didn't need fancy worded declarations of love- all he needed to hear was that she was willing to take any dumb class just to hang out with him. He felt the love.

"Hey Christine," Erik began softly. He sat them down on the closet bench and pulled her legs over his gently; they were so small, they barely stretched over. "How's Raoul doing? Have you seen him in a while?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know," she replied. "He still wants to be my boyfriend but I told him I don't want to anymore. Why?"

"You know, I think Raoul really cares about you, Christine," Erik whispered with difficulty. "Maybe you should give him another chance. What do you think?"

"But I'm _your_ girlfriend!" she insisted. "I can't be Raoul's girlfriend too!"

"And I'm not supposed to be married and have a girlfriend at the same time," he pointed out dryly. "You know, Christine, I spoke to the dean today-"

"Dean Richards?" she gasped. Apparently, she was familiar. _Please let her not be familiar with him the way she's familiar with every other man on the planet..._

"Yes," he replied warily. "The dean of the school, are you two friends?"

She shrugged brightly and shook her head. "Not like _that_," she assured him with a giggle. "I've just seen him around. He seems nice. What did you guys talk about?"

"Well Christine," Erik continued uncomfortably, "I got in big trouble today. The dean found out about us, and he's put me on 'unofficial probation' for the rest of the year. And he doesn't even know about-" he swallowed and gently touched her tummy. "If he found out about _that_, I could get into even more trouble."

"You got in trouble?" she repeated slowly with a frown. "I am in trouble too?"

"No, you're not in trouble, you're the victim in this situation," he replied dryly. "But now that the dean- my _boss_- knows... Christine, we can't keep doing this. It really has to stop, I'm putting everything on the line here." He sighed and took her hand desperately. "Do you understand?"

She made a noise, one that Erik recognized by now as a precursor to a tantrum, or at the very least a small fit of tears. It was the sort of noise a wounded puppy would make, a cross between a whimper and a whine, and he quickly pulled her against his chest to placate her.

"We can't be friends anymore?" she sniffled pathetically, clutching his sweater with her tiny fingers, the tiny little fingers with the tiny shell pink fingernails that sort of reminded him of Alex's little fingernails when she was a baby, and then she was burying her nose against his collarbone, and he wanted so much to stop her tears, especially after he had just met her terrible parents who pretended that she didn't even exist, and she smelled sweet and sugary, like baby powder and bubblegum, and she was warm and soft and she needed him... she needed him.

"Of course we can still be friends," he whispered weakly. He pressed his forehead against hers and tried to stop his hands from trembling by taking her chilly, trembling ones in between them. It didn't work, and it only made her tremble more. "We just have to-"

"We just have to not tell anybody," she breathed, threading her fingers between his and pressing her lips against his. "We have to be super super secret, that's all..." Her tongue tickled his lips, and he let her in with a deep sigh.

"Exactly," he groaned. "Super super secret."

His meeting with Christine didn't exactly go according to plan, but Erik was cautiously, hopefully optimistic about how things would look up. He was sure things would improve, somehow, if he just thought positively and tried his best to do right by everyone involved.

His first step was transferring Christine out of his class. She whimpered and whined and gave him oral sex up the kazoo, but he was determined, and nothing she did would change his mind. "Christine, it's the best thing for us," he insisted sternly when he informed her that his class would be replaced by a theater class. "We can still be friends, but it's impossible to act natural when you're in my class. Everyone knows about us! And if you stayed put for the rest of the... nine months, we'll be in even bigger trouble."

"Baby's getting bigger," she mumbled in dejected acknowledgment, patting her _slightly_, slightly rounded tummy. Erik couldn't stop eyeing her warily, waiting for the day she would suddenly pop and everyone would know she was incubating his little swimmers.

The next step of rebuilding his life was renting a small apartment just five minutes from his home. Becky was not exactly ready to let him back in, especially not when his relationship with Christine was so ambiguous (he fibbed and swore it was over between them; she rolled her eyes and hung up the phone), but Erik was determined to keep himself in her mind's eye with frequent visits, weekly flower bouquets delivered to her bakery, and a daily call to 'speak to Zack.'

The apartment was the best thing for him, really. He had had enough of the itchy, coarse blankets and the roaches skittering across the walls of the motel at night, and Christine was terrified of the bedbugs. He paid just about the same amount for his apartment, and it was only temporary, after all. Christine adored it, not that she was invited over very often (alright, he _did_ try not to invite her over as much...) and before long, the place was littered with non-collectable Barbie dolls, empty potato chip bags, and panties and bras galore.

"For the tenth time," Erik growled one evening as a blue polka dot bra landed at his shoe. He grabbed it angrily and followed her into the bathroom with it. "When you take something off, we hang it up! Or we fold it! Or we put it in the hamper! Either way, we _put it away_!" She started singing a Lesley Gore song and peeked her wet head out of the shower.

"I don't tell you what to say, I don't tell you what to do," she giggled and splashed water in his face. He fumed and stomped out of the bathroom; she was still singing. "Just let me be myself, that's all I ask of yooou!"

Christine didn't seem to be taking the change in their relationship very hard, but it was probably because Erik was terrible at imposing boundaries. He declared there would be no more touching without clothes and no more kisses on the mouth either- he _tried_, he really did try to distance himself from her. But how could he distance himself from a girl he loved?

He tried pushing her to go out on social outings without him, but that didn't work for either of them. Christine would get weepy and clingy when he told her to go out on the weekends, convinced he didn't want her company, and he would seethe with rage and jealously when he finally convinced her to leave.

"Did you sleep with anyone?" he demanded when she showed up bleary eyed and sleepy on a Saturday morning. "Where were you? What did you do? Why didn't you call me? How did you get home? Why do you smell like men's cologne?"

She shrugged evasively and tiptoed off to the shower, leaving a satiny purple bra and panty set at his feet. He seethed. He fumed. He _told_ her to pick up after herself. "Christine!" he bellowed, storming into the bathroom behind her. She squeaked and jumped, completely naked and about to step under the water. "Christine, I want you to tell me right now where you were," he demanded angrily.

"I went _out_!" she cried. "You _told_ me to! You _made _me! I didn't _want_ to, but you_ told _me to! Go away! Go away, go away, go away!" She grabbed a bar of soap and chucked it at him; it hit him square in the nose and bumped his mask off. He reached down to replace it, flustered.

"I told you to go out with friends, not to have sex with men you don't know!" He retorted. "And I told you to call me to tell me what time you would be home. You didn't get back until this morning!"

She angrily wrapped a towel around herself and shoved him as hard as she could. He barely tipped his weight. "You're ANNOYING!" she yelled. She started to rain punches on his chest. "You're not my daddy, and you're not even my professor anymore, you're NOBODY! All you do is yell at me and I hate being yelled at!" She started to cry. She started to sob. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and buried her face in her hands. "You don't even want me anymore."

And his heart broke, and he got down on his knees, and he wrapped her up in his arms again, like he always did, because he loved her, and he didn't know what to do. A typical Saturday morning. He sighed into his babydoll's hair, and prayed to every God, Yaweh, Allah, and Buddah he knew that things would somehow get better, and quickly.


	35. Secret's Out

**How long has it been! I think we're going on 3 years now. I wonder if this fic will ever be finished! Thanks to EVERYONE who reviewed and is still waiting. You are amazing. **

* * *

It wasn't until the day Christine Officially Popped that Gabrielle began… to notice. It was a bit like Christine's stomach, to be honest- for weeks, no- months, there were signs and hints… small belly rolls when she bent over, an _extra_ cookie at breakfast, and then suddenly, POP! It looked like Christine had stuffed a small basketball under her t-shirt.

That's how it was with the father. Gabrielle was dying to know who it could be. Obviously someone who had a lot to lose, but Christine had such an impressive resume that it could be anyone. And so up until the day that Christine Popped, Gabrielle had nothing but suspicions, outlandish theories and speculations.

And then, she knew.

Mr. Farlow. It had to be. He was her teacher, he was married, and now Christine was pregnant. Gabrielle knew she couldn't confront Christine- she would probably just clam up and shrug nervously. Gabrielle had to take things into her own hands.

Her first step was obvious- she stopped by Mr. Farlow's office one afternoon after classes. She never took his class- when she was an undergrad, she took yoga as her PE requirement. Running around and throwing basketballs just wasn't Gabrielle's thing. The fact that she had never had a personal relationship with him made things much easier- she was going to be merciless.

She rapped on his door sharply and hardly waited for his invitation to come in. "Mr. Farlow?" she asked, throwing in a head-jut for good measure. She adjusted her stance and thrust out a hip before plowing forward. "My name is Gabrielle, and I'm a friend of Christine's. Christine Daae, I'm sure you know her?"

He blinked then slowly scratched his head. "Yeah, I know Christine, she's in my class. She in trouble?" he chuckled and rapped his knuckles on the desk.

"Mr. Farlow, let's not play dumb. I know everything," Gabrielle hissed. She decided after watching a Law and Order marathon the night before that fabricating evidence was a legitimate interrogation tactic to obtain a confession.

"What are you talking about!" Mr. Farlow spluttered. "Know what?"

"Christine told me everything about you two, so you might as well stop playing dumb," Gabrielle continued.

"She's _lying_!" he insisted, even as his faced flushed and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. "Besides, you have no proof-"

"The proof, Mr. Farlow, is as they say, 'in the pudding,'" Gabrielle quoted menacingly. Proof was in the pudding? Where did she come up with that? She went on. "I've only come here as a formality, to warn you that your life will soon be flushed down the drain. I'm on my way to the Dean as soon as I leave your office, and I suggest you resign quietly before your reputation takes even more of a plummet once everyone learns what you've done."

He finally paled. "You can't be serious," he said. "This is _Christine_ we're talking about, not some virgin Homecoming Queen-"

"Nobody deserves what you did to Christine!" Gabrielle snapped. "Good luck convincing your wife not to divorce you, JERK!" And with that, she spun on her Prada (ok, so they were from last season and she did buy them at an outlet mall) heels right out the door.

She felt great. She felt like she had really helped someone who couldn't help themselves, and hopefully, even put a creepy teacher out of business forever. She only felt bad for the baby- having Christine and Mr. Farlow as parents didn't seem like a promising future.

Gabrielle was so absorbed in her victory that she didn't even see Christine's friend Raoul plowing his way across the hall and right into her. They both stumbled, and Gabrielle barely had a chance to register his face, looking just as intense as hers a few minutes ago before he had stalked away in the direction she came from.

Gabrielle shrugged and went on, sure that it would be a beautiful day.

* * *

_Earlier in the day_

"Professor Destler? You wanted to see me?" a nervous voice said from the doorway.

Erik looked up and smiled briefly. "Yes, come in and have a seat, Raoul. Thank you for coming in on such short notice, I'm sure you're very busy what with-" he gestured off-handedly- "sports season and such." Raoul blinked, and Erik cleared his throat. "Sit, Raoul, sit, please."

"Raoul, I called you in here today because I wanted to discuss Christine with you," Erik said, delicately arching his fingers. "I have a concern, and since I know you're a good friend of hers, I thought you might be able to help me. Raoul, do you know Mr. Farlow?"

Raoul blinked again and let out an enormous sigh. "Thank God this is about Christine, because I _know_ I turned in all of my work for your class, Professor. Is- is there something wrong with Christine? Is she alright? I don't really know how I could help you though, you know she dumped me…"

Before Raoul could descend into another bout of self pity, Erik slapped the desk sharply and frowned. "Raoul, Christine has come to me with a complaint about Mr. Farlow," he said. "And I wanted to make sure what you said to me recently was still true."

Raoul suddenly frowned. "What kind of a complaint?" he demanded. "Was he being pervy again?"

"Well, that's exactly what Christine said, Raoul," Erik encouraged gently. "She even told me he was violent with her, can you believe that? You know Christine, she wouldn't hurt a fly…"

"You're saying he pushes her around too?" Raoul said indignantly. "What an asshole, Christine's like, less than half his size! Professor, can't you report him or something?"

Erik sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That's the thing, Raoul," he said sadly. "I can't. I didn't see anything happen, and if Christine tried to complain, it would be her word against his. Of course it wouldn't be taken seriously, Christine is just a freshman and he's been teaching at this school for years…"

"Yeah, but that's _sick_ for him to just be able to stay her and mess with her like that," Raoul complained.

Erik tilted his head and tried to look as sad as possible. "It just makes me want to…. kill him," he muttered under his breath. Raoul looked taken aback, but Erik waved his hand. "Not _literally_, of course, but you know… maybe if I were years younger, I would've had it in me to teach him a lesson of his own, you know what I mean? Nothing serious, of course, just enough to make sure he would never step near Christine again. If I were younger, stronger, you wouldn't have been able to stop me."

Raoul frowned and Erik held his breath while he saw the wheels in his head begin to turn slowly. He waited another minute or so, then clapped his hands together with an air of finality and rose from behind the desk. "Well Raoul, I'm sorry to have taken up your time on this fruitless pursuit. I just don't know how I'm going to tell poor, sweet Christine there's really nothing I can do to help her." He clapped Raoul on the shoulder and smiled sadly. "If only real Prince Charmings existed, eh Raoul? Go on and work on your studies, son, I'll see you in class. Good day."

And he closed the door and smiled.

* * *

"Yeah? And I'd do it again!" Raoul barked, throwing a tense punch into his own open palm. "That asshole deserved every punch he got! He's a PERVERT!"

"Raoul, I don't think you _understand_ just how serious this is," Dean Richards said tensely. "David Farlow has three broken ribs, a broken arm, and a concussion! You could go to jail! Are you out of your mind? What's gotten into you?"

"I'll tell you what!" Raoul said hotly. "That teacher is a nasty son of a bitch who threatens freshmen into having sex with him, but there's no way he was ever going to get in trouble! I just had to take things into my own hands, sir, and like I said, I'd do it again!"

The dean dropped his head in his hands in despair and sighed. "What is this about, Raoul? Who is this about?"

"Christine Daae-"

"Christine! All I've heard since she came is Miss Daae's name!" Dean Richards moaned. "Raoul, I can't let you just walk away with nearly beating a professor to a pulp, even if he did have it coming. I'm suspending you for the rest of the semester, and be thankful that's all you're getting. I'll speak to your parents about this to smooth over any lumps, but until then, consider this your unofficial notice."

Raoul grunted, but couldn't force his impoliteness so far; "Thank you, sir," he muttered, shuffling out the door.

Dean Richards angrily grabbed his desk phone and punched in Erik's extension. "You better have something very persuasive to tell me, Destler!" he hissed. "Dave is in the _hospital_! Raoul is suspended! What is the matter with you?"

"Dean Richards, I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about…"

"Please, what kind of an idiot do you think I am? Do you really expect me to believe that Raoul de Chagny decided to attack Dave all by himself? Are you crazy? How many lives do you want to ruin, Erik? Because you're on a roll!"

"I had nothing to do with Raoul attacking Dave Farlow," Erik snapped. "Raoul is a big boy, and he doesn't need me to make decisions for him. You should be happy, Dean, you've got a nasty professor off your hands for a while."

"You know you're just as bad as Dave is, Erik, get off your high horse, because the last I heard, you're still living in a low rent apartment ten miles away from your wife. You are walking on thin ice, Erik Destler, and this is the last warning I'm going to gi- oh, shit." The dean slowly hung up the phone as he stared at the doorway in shock. "This day is just getting better and better."

Gabrielle had just walked in, gently coaxing a suspicious looking Christine through the door. Only instead of the Barbie sized Christine Daae the dean faintly remembered, this Christine was sporting a _very_ noticeable bump under her summer dress. It wasn't a big bump, but it was _noticeable_.

"Hello Dean Richards," Gabrielle said, confidently riding on the wave of shock she knew Christine had created. She pushed Christine to sit down in the seat opposite the dean's desk and protectively rested her hands on Christine's shoulders. "Christine here would like to make a complaint; sexual harassment, that is, against one of the professors here at Wesleyan. Right, Christine?"

Christine swallowed and nodded uncertainly.

"Right… well, hello there, Christine," the dean said weakly, unable to tear his eyes away from her belly. "Why don't you tell me about your complaint? Does it by any chance have anything to do with… uh-" he gestured blindly with his hands, not sure if he was allowed to acknowledge her obvious situation before her.

"I'm having a baby," Christine informed him matter-of-factly. "Baby's coming soon, it'll just take another few months."

"Is that so?" the dean squeaked.

"Christine, tell him what you told me about Mr. Farlow," Gabrielle nudged.

Christine paled and looked between Gabrielle and the dean nervously. "I-"

"Christine, I promise you that whatever you tell me here will be kept in strictest confidence," the dean assured her. "You can tell me whatever you want."

"Mr. Farlow r-raped me," she breathed, squeezing her lips shut as soon as the confession left her lips. "He made me do things I didn't want to. He told me I had to, or else I would be kicked out of school. I didn't want to, I swear," she insisted, and the dean put his hand up and nodded slowly.

"Thank you for coming forward, Christine," he said gravely. "I know it must have been very scary to come to me and make your complaint, but I'm glad that you did. I am _very_ sorry about this ordeal, and uh-" he gestured again, still unsure of the politically correct way to address her bump, "everything it involves-"

"Sir, Christine is obviously pregnant," Gabrielle finally butted in. "Christine is underage, in school, and completely unequipped to deal with this. Mr. Farlow has to be held responsible for any expenses his abuse has created- he has to pay for this baby."

"Are you a law major?" the dean asked Gabrielle off-handedly.

"Math," she replied.

"Mr. Farlow's not Baby's daddy," Christine suddenly said in surprise. "Baby's daddy already pays for Baby and me, I don't need any money from Mr. Farlow." She furrowed her brow and shrugged. "I just want him to leave me alone. I don't like him."

"But Christine-" Gabrielle said in shock, "you _told_ me this morning that he was the father-"

Christine frowned and shook her head. "No I didn't."

"But- I asked if it was a professor and you said yes…." Suddenly, realization dawned on Gabrielle's face and her eyes widened in shock. "_Another_ professor? But who?"

The dean paled just as Erik walked through the door. His eyes narrowed and he slapped his desk angrily. Christine jumped, and as Erik quickly digested the situation in front of him, he paled as well. "You got her _pregnant_?" the dean demanded.

"Wait a second-" Erik said, hastily holding up his hands.

Christine spun around in surprise at the sound of his voice and beamed when she saw him. "Professor!" she squealed excitedly.

Gabrielle's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Professor?" she squeaked in shock. "You? Professor _Destler_? _You're_ the father?"

"What? Father? Of whom?" Erik said weakly, trying to look everywhere in the room but at Christine's stomach. "I just came by to clear things up with you, sir, I think our phone conversation was interrupted…"

"Well, Destler, I think you can see why," the dean snapped, gesturing to Christine and Gabrielle. He turned to Christine and finally bit the bullet and acknowledged her bump. "Christine, dear, just how far along are you? When are you due?"

"J-j-july," she stammered.

The dean nodded and wearily gestured to Erik. "And the father…?"

Erik closed his eyes and held his breath, but all he heard was a loud thump. He opened his eyes, and suddenly there was chaos.

"You upset her!" Gabrielle was hissing at the dean, as she crouched on the floor next to an unconscious Christine. Now that her shock had worn off, she was back to being the protector of Christine, impatiently pushing aside his fumbling hands as they both tried to revive Christine. "I think she hit her head-"

"Christine!" Erik dropped to his knees and this time it was him pushing Gabrielle out of the way. "Gabrielle, please go get the school nurse," he ordered. She nodded and quickly scurried out the door, leaving Erik, Dean Richards, and an unconscious Christine alone.

"What's the matter with her?" the dean spluttered, hovering anxiously and wringing his hands. "Is she going into labor? This situation is beyond inappropriate, an underage pregnant teen in my office, unconscious, alone with two faculty members- with _me_-"

"Would you shut up?" Erik snapped, gently pulling Christine into a sitting position. "Of course she's not going into labor, she just fainted, she got overworked _and _she probably didn't eat lunch. She'll be fine, she just needs some space, that's all."

As soon as Erik finished speaking, Christine's eyelids began fluttering and she murmured incoherently. "Do you feel alright, dear?" the dean asked immediately and anxiously. Erik gave him a dirty look and Christine furrowed her brow in confusion. Erik shifted her so she could lean on him and felt her forehead.

"I fainted," she finally surmised.

"You fainted," Erik agreed quietly.

"She fainted," the dean echoed nervously. Just then, the nurse bustled in, followed by Gabrielle, looking fierce and ready to protect her charge as usual. "Christine fainted?" the nurse repeated enthusiastically. "It must be that baby, it sure does take a lot of energy to grow one, doesn't it, Christine?"

Christine nodded wearily and held out her arm obediently while the nurse took her blood pressure. Everyone else in the room shuffled awkwardly, each of them continually bumping into the enormous pink elephant hiding under Christine's dress. After the nurse gave Christine a juicebox and a clean bill of health, they just stared at her, like each of them was waiting for the baby to suddenly materialize.

"I'm sleepy," Christine finally declared with a yawn. This spurred them all into action; the dean clapped his hands together and cleared his throat, Gabrielle and Erik each bent and took one arm to help her stand, and each one silently refused to let go, leaving Christine with her arms bent at the elbows and hovering mid air. She grunted crankily and they both let go.

"_I'll_ take her to her dorm," Gabrielle finally announced, shooting Erik a dirty look. "Let's go, Christine."

Christine followed obediently, but not before waving goodbye to the dean and shooting Erik one last pout. Erik swallowed as the girls shut the door behind them; he was locked in the lion's den. The dean silently motioned to the chair in front of his desk, and Erik slowly sat down.

"So," the dean began, tapping a pen on his desk. "Christine is pregnant. Wow. W-o-w."

Erik silently stared at his shoes.

"Erik-" the dean sighed and suddenly stood up. "Take a vacation, alright? It would be better if you… just took some time off until this whole business is through. Sound good?"

"A vacation?" Erik panicked. "I'd rather not-"

"This is a… non-negotiable vacation," the dean clarified delicately.

"You're _suspending_ me?" Erik demanded.

"Yes, I'm suspending you!" the dean finally snapped. "What the hell is the matter with you? I don't give a damn about your personal life, but I do give a damn about this school's reputation. Not only do you have an affair with your underage student, a student with a _known_ reputation for promiscuity, but then you get her pregnant too? Are you an idiot?"

"I'm tenured!" Erik replied, "You can't just get rid of me like this-"

"I'm not getting rid of you, Erik, I'm just trying to stop any rumors before they start," the dean replied. "Listen, I'm calling it administrative leave, you'll still be paid a full salary, you just… don't have to teach for a while. Or come around the school. You've been collecting a lot of strikes lately, Erik, and I don't want any scandals. We'll be lucky if no one finds out about Farlow."

"I've already told you, I had nothing to do with that-"

"Erik," the dean interrupted sharply. He sat down at his desk with an air of finality and pointed. "There's the door. This is absolutely nonnegotiable."

"Erik Destler?"

"That's me," Erik muttered as he stalked to his parking space. "What did I do now? Are you here to revoke my parking space too? To repo my car?"

"No, sir," the voice replied flatly. Erik finally turned to find a perky blonde woman holding out a stack of papers. "I'm just here to give you this. You've just been served. Have a nice day."

"Wait, what is this?" he demanded, staring at the stack of papers in his hands. _Separation Agreement_. "Separation agreement?" he repeated to himself in disbelief. He skimmed over the first page… and then the second, and finally leaned against his car and sucked in a deep breath. "Separation," he said under his breath, "separation?" He shook his head and climbed into his car, throwing the papers on the passenger side floor. "We'll see about a separation."

* * *

"Becky!" Erik shouted as he bounded up the walkway to his (former) front door. He banged his fist against the oak before fumbling in his pocket for the key. He tried to push it in, but it didn't fit. He frowned and turned it upside down, and it still didn't fit. His eyes widened in sudden realization, and he banged on the door some more. "Becky, open the goddam door! Why the hell did you change the lock?"

Erik glanced at the driveway, but with the garage door closed, it was impossible to tell if Becky was home or not. Suddenly, he saw a light flicker from the top of the stairwell, and he felt his blood pressure spike.

"Becky!" he bellowed, thumping both fists on the door now. He couldn't remember feeling so _desperate_, so _pathetic_, and he just felt this indescribable need to confront his wife, and shake the stupid separation papers in her face and demand an explanation as if she were the bad guy in the whole drama. It wasn't logical, and it wasn't fair, and he hated himself for putting everyone through such an ordeal, but at the same time, he loved himself far too much to let either Becky or Christine go. He just _couldn't_.

"BECKY! OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!" he yelled once last time, before taking a good five steps backwards and then charging forward into the door, shoulder first. He realized just as the impact of the massive oak door dislocated his shoulder what a stupid idea it had been to charge it down, and then, everything went black.

"Erik, you can be such an idiot sometimes," was the first thing he heard when he came to. He blinked and moaned as white hot pain shot through his left shoulder, and he felt a gentle hand touch it gingerly. He groaned as the pain intensified, and the hand pulled away. "A tenured professor, two Ph.D's, a daughter at an Ivy League University, and he thinks he can knock down the front door like a battering ram. I'm taking you to the hospital. Erik, get up."

"I can't," he insisted, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. "Becky, why did you serve me with separation papers? You want to _divorce_ me?"

"If I wanted to divorce you, I would've served you divorce papers and saved myself the extra step, Erik. Now hurry up, I've got a yoga class at five."

Erik heard the familiar jingle of her car keys, and he reluctantly opened his eyes just in time to see his wife's (newly?) firm behind heading to the garage. He managed to get up and follow her, wincing as he felt his shoulder get jostled about in the socket, and just barely climb into the passenger seat and close the door. Becky was staring stoically ahead, her eyes hidden by sunglasses.

"So," Erik finally interjected hopefully, "you don't want to get divorced?"

She glanced at him over her sunglasses with a raised eyebrow and scoffed. "Don't get too excited," she replied dryly. "I'm still examining all of my options. But for the moment, no, I'm not divorcing you. Yet."

Erik held his breath and stared ahead at the traffic light in front of them. He wasn't sure how far he could push without pushing his luck too far. He decided to dig a little deeper. "Why not?"

"You know, Erik, I've started seeing a therapist," she said lightly, "and it's really working out for me. I've gotten a little perspective about this whole mess… he's great, actually, you should make an appointment. Dr. Smirgel."

Erik raised his eyebrows.

"Anyway, I finally decided, well, if you're so determined to go this… 'route' with your life, who am I to stop you? We've been married for over twenty years, and I think a legal separation for a year or two might actually be a good thing. It's nothing permanent, that's why I'm not filing for divorce, it's just a break from each other to sow some wild oats."

"A year or two?" Erik repeated faintly.

"Yes, Erik, a year or two. This whole thing has made me think… well, we need time _apart_. When I first found out-" she took a shuddering breath and shook her head. "Well, it came as a colossal shock; I had no idea to expect an affair with a seventeen year old. And then I realized that maybe I don't know you as well as I thought I did. And _then_ I thought, well, how well do I know myself? That's what this separation is about. Getting to know ourselves again before we can try to get to know each other."

Erik furrowed his brow. "What do you mean, 'sow some wild oats'?"

"Being separated for a year or two will give you time to deal with your-" she waved her hand and coughed, "situation with Christine, and I'll be able to go out and have a little fun of my own. You can stay in your apartment, I'll stay in the house; of course you can come by to see Zack, we'll see each other then… maybe we can even try some couples counseling. But we won't be tied to each other, and we can see other people… you know."

Erik's frown deepened. "What do you mean, 'see other people'?"

"Come on Erik, we're here. Hurry up, I've only got fifteen minutes to get to my yoga class." She quickly ran around to the passenger's side and impatiently helped him out before ushering him into the emergency wing. She worked efficiently, and had him getting his shoulder reset in less than ten minutes.

"Right, Mr. Destler, because of this mild sedative we gave you, you'll have to have someone drive you home, do you understand?" the doctor said loudly and slowly as he put the finishing touches on Erik's sling. "Your wife drove you here, right?"

Erik nodded groggily and stumbled back out to the reception desk where Becky was filling out paperwork. Just as Erik was about to call out to her, a large, muscular, tan gentleman dressed head to toe in Lycra came up to her with a large, _very_ large white smile.

"Becky?" beamed the Lycra giant. "What in the world are you doing here?"

Becky spun around in surprise and her face broke into a pleased smile as she recognized the Lycra giant. "Phillip! What a surprise, I was actually trying not to be late to your class, w-what are you doing here? Are you alright?"

Phillip looked down bashfully and shrugged. "Oh well, I do a little volunteering here a couple of times a week. I'm running late myself, why don't we go together?"

"That sounds like a great idea! Let me just-"

"Find your husband!" Erik boomed, coming up behind his blushing wife ominously.

"Oh. Erik. There you are," Becky muttered, slipping on her sunglasses discreetly. "Ah… Phillip, this is Erik-"

"Her husband!" Erik repeated threateningly. "And you are?"

"Hey, it's great to meet you," Phillip grinned good naturally, holding out his hand for Erik to shake. Erik glared and jostled his sling; Phillip slowly put his hand down. "I'm Becky's yoga instructor, we're actually running a little late right now-"

"Hey, Phillip, why don't I meet you out in the parking lot, I've just got to sign one more form, alright?" Becky suggested quickly. "I'll be right out." She waved as the Lycra giant nodded and jogged out to the parking lot, leaving a line of fainting old ladies in his wake. "Erik, could you try any harder to embarrass me?" she hissed.

"Me? Embarrass you? What about Mario Lopez outside?" Erik demanded indignantly. "What's going on between you two?"

"That's none of your business, Erik, we're legally separated now-"

"I haven't signed any papers yet," Erik replied smugly. "Maybe I don't want to be separated, especially now that I see what you're getting up to when I'm not around."

"What _I'm_ getting up to?" Becky screeched. "Look who's talking, Mr.-"

"Professor!" squealed a familiar voice.

"Oh no," Erik muttered, slowly turned to the direction of the voice.

Becky clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes. "Exactly. Mr. Professor, I think someone is looking for you. I'll let you go ahead and catch a ride with Miss Haze, and by the way-" she pointed to a flyer posted at the reception desk, "story time for the children starts in thirty minutes. I'll be in Downward Dog with Phillip." She winked, patted him on his good shoulder, and quickly walked out the door, narrowly missing Christine.

"Professor!" Christine squealed again, waddling up to him as quickly as she could. Down the hall, Erik saw a weary Meg followed by a stoic Sauna and he willed his face to stop turning red as they approached. In a minute he was surrounded by all sides, and Becky was long gone. He sighed helplessly.

"If it isn't Professor Pervert himself," Meg grunted as Christine gave him an oblivious hug. "Wasn't that Mrs. Destler who just left a minute ago?"

"You certainly are an observant young lady, aren't you, Miss Meg?" Erik snapped in reply.

"Professor, I want to stay with you tonight," Christine interrupted. She added the next part in a deliberately pathetic whimper, "I just came from seeing the doctor."

"Yeah, but there's nothing wrong with you, Christine," Meg scolded her. "All it was was a tummy ache, she ate an entire pint of ice cream in thirty minutes-"

"Meg, shut up!" Christine sniffed, still clinging to Erik's arm. "Go away now, Professor's going to take me home with him."

"_Actually_," Erik began miserably, feeling like a sixteen year old, "I don't have a… ride. I'll have to call a taxi, Becky's left to go to yoga class."

"Oh, Meg can take us both!" Christine squealed in excitement, turning right back to Meg with the same calculated cuteness she had tried to use on Erik. "You'll take us there, won't you Meg?"

"I thought you wanted me to go away," Meg grumbled.

"I call shotgun," Sauna cackled.


	36. Big News

**I just had to tell you all again how much I appreciate everyone who reads my story! I feel like I'm back in the zone. I can't apologize enough for my ridiculously long hiatus, but I think I'm on a roll again. I adore you all! And I had a really good time writing this chapter. :D YOUZAH BEST!**

* * *

"Baby is the size of an eggplant," Christine announced as she leafed through the brochure in the waiting room. She furrowed her brow and rested her hand on the crest of her belly. "That's pretty big, isn't it Professor?"

Erik shrugged. "I suppose so. You don't look very big though. When Becky was six months pregnant with Alex she looked like she had swallowed a watermelon. You just look like you swallowed-"

"An eggplant."

"Exactly."

Behind them, there was a small 'bing' against the window. Christine turned around in her seat and peered through the blinds. "I think someone threw a rock at us," she frowned. "Why would they do that?"

Erik took a look and shook his head. "They're protestors. They're trying to get your attention, that's all. Just ignore them, Christine."

"What's a protestor?" she wondered, still staring at the handful of people with signs outside.

"It's when somebody doesn't like something… and so they go around saying they don't like it," Erik replied. "It's called 'protesting,' to say you don't like something, or you don't agree with it."

"Then I protest to you taking away my candy!" she said, suddenly plunging her hand to his jacket where he had hidden her stash of M&M's. He slapped her wrist gently and gave her a warning look. "What are they protesting, anyway?" she asked, turning her attention back to the window.

"Abortion. They perform abortions here too," Erik replied. "See the signs?" He pointed out the large picket signs lying on the ground; it looked like it was about lunch time time for the protestors.

"Why are they protesting abortion?" Christine asked.

"Well, some people don't like it," Erik replied slowly. "It's sort of a funny subject that lots of people feel very strongly about. You should never bring it up at the dinner table."

"I was going to get an abortion," she announced, turning back around in her seat and staring at Erik. "But I didn't."

"No, and now it's much too late," Erik sighed. "Usually you're only allowed to get one when you first become pregnant, after about three months, that's it."

"I think it's scary," Christine whispered with wide eyes. "I'm glad I didn't."

Erik didn't know what to say to that, so he quietly turned back to his magazine. He kept it with him when they called Christine to the back and was just in the middle of reading about the latest oil spill when the nurse clucked her tongue in his direction. He looked up to find her tapping her toe at him and Christine rummaging through the candy bowl on the receptionist's desk.

He folded up his magazine and tried to look appropriately attentive. "Yes?"

"I just weighed Christine, Mr. Destler," the nurse began threateningly.

"Yes…"

"She's almost seven months pregnant, Mr. Destler."

"Is she now?" Erik rubbed the exposed half of his forehead and let out a low whistle. "You can hardly tell, she's such a tiny thing."

"That's the problem," the nurse continued, crossing her arms angrily. She ushered Christine into a nearby examining room but stopped Erik outside the door. "She's not even one hundred and twenty pounds yet! The baby's not going to come out healthy if Christine isn't healthy. You _have_ to watch what she eats. You can't just let her feed herself, because she'll live off of jelly beans."

"She's a little girl, how much weight can you expect her to put on?" Erik protested. "She looks like she's going to pop as it is, I honestly don't think there's any more room left in her-"

"Professor!"

"Excuse me, but Her Highness calls," Erik said hastily, squeezing his way into the examining room. Christine was sitting on the table expectantly, hugging her belly, something she had started doing ever since it was big enough to hold.

"What did the nurse say?" Christine asked. She started drumming a melody on her bump.

"She said you're too skinny," he scolded, waving a finger at her. "The baby's not going to be healthy if you don't eat more. I'll buy you a big salad when we leave."

"No!" she moaned. "I hate salads, they're gross. It's like eating leaves." She kept drumming and suddenly stopped with a look of shock. "Oh!"

"What is it?" Erik asked, turning back to oil spills.

"Baby kicked me," she murmured, bending down to listen to her tummy. "Really hard too. I guess it didn't like the drums."

Erik looked up and felt one of those awful jolts of tenderness that tended to get him into trouble when he saw her caressing her belly. "I guess not." He got up and crouched in front of her and pressed his ear right to her belly button. "Where was it?"

"It was- um, right around there," she replied, bringing his hand right of her belly button. He laced his fingers with hers and smiled when they felt another kick. He lifted her shirt and kissed the spot, then put his ear to her again. He waited to hear another heartbeat, a tiny _thpt thpt_ next to Christine's, but there was nothing.

"Professor, it's the first time you wanted to touch Baby," Christine smiled down at him in excitement. "It's the first time you tried to hear Baby."

"Well, I-"

The doctor stepped in and Erik gratefully sat back down. Christine looked at him suspiciously. "Who are you?" she asked, covering her belly in an uncharacteristic show of modesty. "You're not my doctor."

"No, I'm not," the new doctor replied with a curt smile. "I'm just filling in, my name is Doctor Smith. I guess you're Christine?" She nodded warily. The doctor turned to Erik who tried to hide behind his magazine as he always did at these appointments. "And I guess this is Grandpa?"

"Nope, that's the Daddy," Christine replied brightly. "He's my professor."

Erik jerkily waved a hand and kept his bright red face behind the magazine.

"Ok, well, this is just a normal twenty-six week check-up, Christine, you know the drill. We'll just have a look at you and the baby." A nurse entered to assist with the ultrasound and Christine reclined on the table expectantly. "So do you have a plan for the baby, Christine?"

"I'm giving my baby away," Christine answered promptly. "I can't keep a baby."

"You _are_ pretty young, let's see- your chart says you'll be eighteen in June, is that right?"

"Yes, sir," she replied, "and Baby comes out in July."

"Yes, I see that, your due date is July 31…" He looked up at her over his glasses. "Have you thought about a birth plan, Christine?"

She widened her eyes. "Well… Baby's going to come out."

The doctor laughed and Erik chuckled behind his magazine. "That sounds like a good plan, Ms Daae. Let's have a look, shall we?"

Erik put aside his magazine when the blurry image of Christine's uterus was projected on the TV screen above them. Christine stared in awe, even though he knew there was no way she could tell heads from tails from the images on the screen. He squinted and thought he spotted a head.

"So do you already know the sex?" The doctor asked them, listening for the _thpt thpt_ of the baby's heartbeat. He squinted at the image and smiled when he realized what it was. He turned to Christine and pointed. "Do you want to know if it's a boy or a girl?"

She widened her eyes and covered her mouth in surprise. She had sort of forgotten it would be a boy or a girl- up until then, she had only imagined the baby as a sexless, cuddly, cooing baby wrapped in a knitted white blanket. "I don't know-"

"I don't think it's a good idea to find out," Erik interrupted uneasily. He stood up and crouched by Christine's side again. "Christine, we're giving the baby up for adoption, we don't want to get too attached…"

"But-"

"At least that way it will be a surprise," the doctor interjected helpfully. Erik narrowed his eyes, but Christine tilted her head and nodded.

"I like surprises," she smiled. "I want it to be a surprise! So I can guess if it's a little boy or a little girl! A little boy who wears blue or a little girl who wears pink…"

"This wasn't supposed to make her more excited," Erik muttered to the doctor.

The doctor shrugged and turned off the machine. "So, Christine!" he said slapping his knees briskly. "Do you mind if a take a look?" He gestured to her skirt and she lay back expectantly. Erik stood back and looked away; seeing others touching his baby always made him feel awkward.

"Christine, I'm going to schedule a c-section for you on July twenty-sixth, since you're due on the thirty-first," Dr. Smith said when he finally pulled his head out from between her legs. He addressed them both and pointed to her midsection. "Christine's got an itty bitty pelvis, and I don't think it's a good idea to take the chance that the baby will get stuck in it."

Christine looked troubled. "What's a c-section? Where's the baby going to get stuck?"

"Well, look, Christine," Dr. Smith replied, "normally, when the time comes, the baby will gradually turn around until he's hanging upside down inside of you, with his head resting right in your pelvis, this part right here." He made a V with his hands and showed her. "And then of course, you would go into labor, and the baby would be squeeeeezed out-"

Erik winced.

"- out through your pelvis and finally out of your vagina. You see?"

No, from the expression on her face, it was clear that she did not see. Erik took her hand and frowned at the sweatiness of it. He even saw beads of sweat break out across her forehead, and her eyes were as big as he had ever seen them.

"But, unfortunately in your case, your pelvis is too small. If the baby tried to come through, I'm scared that the head might get stuck, and then we'll have to do a c-section anyway, so I'd prefer just scheduling one and be done with it. Now, a c-section is when you come in, we give you some medicine that puts you to sleep, and we make a little cut in your tummy, then take the baby out that way. You'll be asleep the whole time," he reassured her.

"They're going to cut me?" Christine turned to Erik in distress.

He patted her hand. "Trust me, it's much better than the alternative."

* * *

Later in the car, Erik glanced at Christine in concern. She had stayed silent since leaving the doctor's office, with her arms wrapped firmly around her belly and a look of deep concentration upon her face. He gently took her hand and squeezed. "Christine? Are you alright?"

She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and shrugged. "Just thinking," she mumbled.

"What are you thinking about, darling?"

"Thinking about Baby."

"Ah." He patted her knee and sighed. What a mess. At least she would have a c-section. He couldn't imagine Christine giving birth to anything. "Christine, you know when you have the baby, it's going to…" he cleared his throat awkwardly, "well, it might hurt."

He finally got a reaction out of her. She turned to him in fear. "It's going to hurt?" she repeated. "But the doctor said I'll be sleeping!"

"Well, when they take the baby out, you will be," he replied, "but before that, you might go into labor, or just have some contractions."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

Erik pulled over at a family restaurant and beckoned her to follow him inside. She took his hand and he kissed her forehead, and the hostess gave them a strange look before seating them in a booth in the back. "What does it mean, what you said?" Christine pressed, clutching at his hands.

"Well, now the baby is inside of you, right here," Erik began, gently rubbing her tummy. The baby kicked and Christine smiled shyly despite herself. "But in July, it will be time for the baby to come out, so your body will start contracting, like this-" He demonstrated with his hands- "to push the baby out. And those contractions are painful."

Her eyelashes fluttered delicately and Erik offhandedly thought what a good Victorian lady she would have made. Delicate, fragile, prone to fainting, in desperate need of Freudian psychoanalysis… perhaps Christine was born in the wrong century. To prove his point, she promptly flung herself onto him in a fit of tears.

"I don't want to have a baby," she whimpered. "I changed my mind."

Tell me about it, Erik thought. "Christine," he coaxed instead, silently pointing to Hot Chocolate on the menu as a server walked by, "hush, Christine, don't cry, it'll be alright. Now, I want you to sit up and listen to me."

She hiccuped and patted her tummy fretfully, and stared at him with big, baleful eyes.

"There's nothing to be scared of," he assured her, "nothing at all. Having a baby is natural, it's been going on forever. Look at all the babies born everyday, and all the women who are still alive. And on top of that, you won't have to do it the hard way, the doctor's going to do all the hard work for you."

She sniffled and he pressed a napkin to her nose and had her blow. "What are you scared of, darling? Tell Professor," he continued, stroking her hair. Her hot chocolate arrived and she cooed like a baby.

"I'm scared it's going to hurt," she sniffled, "I don't want it to come out-" The thought of childbirth was too much for, and she burst into fresh tears before she could finish. Suddenly, with a loud gasp, her tears stopped, and she suck in a breath. Her eyes widened, and her hands went to her tummy.

"Christine, what is it?" Erik demanded. She didn't move, and stayed with puffed up cheeks and a frozen hand across the baby. Erik grabbed her shoulders and shook. "Christine, stop that, you're going to pass out again, come on, breath and tell me what's the matter!"

"Oh!" she cried, letting out the breath and biting her lip. Her breathing was labored, and her face was flushed. "Oh."

"What happened?" he asked carefully, gently pressing around her belly. "Did it hurt?"

She shook her head breathlessly.

"Well if it doesn't hurt, then what? What is it?"

"I- I don't know," she replied in shock. "It felt like… like someone was squeezing me, like someone put a bowling ball in my tummy…" She turned back to her hot chocolate, and was silent for the rest of the meal. After they had finished, Erik nervously dialed the doctor's office.

"Dr. Wilbur's office," answered the receptionist.

"Yes, hello, I was there only a couple of hours ago and I had a question about something my- well, my Christine just described to me, may I please speak to a nurse?"

"Please hold." A moment later, the line was picked up again. "Yes, Mr. Destler, what's the problem?"

"Well, we were eating lunch and then Christine suddenly seized up and didn't move for a moment- and then when it was over, she described it as squeezing…"

"Any pain?"

"No, no, she said it didn't hurt, it just felt like there was a bowling ball in her stomach. Obviously, I would assume it's the baby, but nowadays, who honestly knows-"

"Sounds like Braxton Hicks contractions, sir. Nothing to worry about, she'll probably keep getting them until her due date. They're like false contractions, usually they don't hurt, they just feel like how she described. Nothing to worry about, like I said."

"Oh that's right, I forgot about those," he rang off and Christine turned to him miserably. "Are they going to cut me now?" she asked.

"No, Princess, you've got another two and a half months. Buckle up."

* * *

After dropping Christine and her bowling ball off at her dorms with a nice hearty McDonald's salad, Erik made his way back to his lonely apartment in his lonely community to watch some lonely TV. He sighed in self pity as he opened the door to the empty and sparsely furnished apartment and shuffled into bed without even undressing. He hadn't realized how much he relied on working to give him purpose in his life, but now that his days revolved around Christine's schedule and hanging out with her to play with Barbies, he missed it almost as much as he missed his cushy life with Becky.

He wouldn't even mind watching SpongBob, or whatever inane cartoons Christine adored at the moment to have a little company, but she insisted that he drop her off at her dorm so that she could show Meg her new pictures of the baby.

"And besides, you just don't have a lot of cool stuff in your house," she added obliviously, "it's so boring."

So there he was, pathetic and lonely and watching some dumb sitcom. When he heard a ringing, it took him so long to realize it was his phone (from lack of use) that by the time he had found it, it already stopped.

_1 missed call- Becky._

He perked up and removed his mask to rub his face. Becky was calling him. Could it have been a mistake? Why was she calling him? Had she decided to divorce him after all? Before he could even make up his mind to call her back, the phone rang again and he stumbled over his own fingers to answer it.

"Becky, yes, hello?" he answered eagerly.

"Thank God you answered, I was worried you had died of a heart attack in the middle of having more unprotected sex with teenagers," she deadpanned.

He was so happy to hear from her that he smiled even as she insulted him. "It's nice to hear from you, Becky! H-how are you-"

"Erik, I didn't call for a chat, I called to tell you that our daughter is en route to our house and will probably be in here in about thirty minutes."

"What! Why?"

"How should I know?" Becky scoffed in reply. "She just called me up and told me she was on her way for a surprise visit with Jude."

"Jude, why did she have to bring him along?" Erik muttered.

"Erik, listen, I'm just calling to let you know," Becky interrupted impatiently. "When Alex gets here, she's going to want to know where you are, and why you're ahem, no longer living here. If you'd like to come over and _explain_ your situation to her, now is your chance. If not, well, I'm sure I can think of something to tell them-"

"No!" he blurted, jumping off the bed and grabbing his keys. "No, Becky, I'm on my way, don't say a word to Alex, please!"

"Fine, but I would hurry up," she rang off.

Erik made it home in ten minutes. He tried not to look too eager as he knocked on the door and felt like crying in happiness when Becky answered in all of her red cardigan, khaki, and pearl glory. She let him in with a sour look on her face and quickly appraised his three day scruff and jeans.

"You look so _unkept_," she snapped, ushering him up the stairs. "Go upstairs, _shave_, shower, and get dressed, I've laid out your clothes on the bed. Alex just called, they're fifteen minutes away."

He didn't have time to argue. He ran upstairs and beamed at the sight of his old room once more, just as he had left it that fateful day, with beautiful crisp white linens and the scent of clean laundry in the air. There was not a Barbie doll in sight, and Erik felt his heart flutter at the elegant expanse of Becky's cosmetics lined up at the vanity, glitter lip gloss excluded. He jumped in the shower, lathered up with the familiar bottle of expensive Banana Republic body wash, and stepped into a decadently plush white towel when he was done.

His things were all where he had left them, and it made his heart skip a beat to know that Becky hadn't thrown anything out. He shaved, patted on some cologne, and was just adjusting his bowtie as the doorbell rang. He gulped, and headed downstairs.

"Daddy!" Alex exclaimed, bowling Erik over with a hug before he even stepped off the stairs. "I've missed you, it's been ages since I've spoken to you."

"Hello my daring," Erik beamed, holding her face and kissing each cheek. "My princess, my angel, my love," he turned to Becky and felt his bubble of happiness threaten to burst as he realized this reunion would only be fleeting. "What brings you here?"

"Well let's sit down and have dinner first, Dad," Alex replied, grabbing Jude's hand and leading them all into the dining room. "Then we'll all catch up."

"Hello Mr. Destler, it's nice to see you, Mr. Destler-" Jude said hastily as Alex purposefully paved a path to the table.

Becky remained silent throughout the exchange and was about to follow Alex and Jude when Erik stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We match," he murmured, fingering his own red cashmere cardigan and smiling at hers.

"Not on purpose," she sniffed, turning on her heel and walking into the kitchen.

"So Mom, tell me all about the bakery," Alex began as she tucked into the Canadian putine, "I want to know all about the business."

Erik zoned out as Becky began telling them about her latest baking mishap involving a wedding, cupcakes, and a shortage of flour, or whatnot. He simply sat at his dinner table with his face in his palm and stared dreamily at all of them, even Jude, and wondered how he could have ever gotten bored with such a life. How could anyone get sick of comfort, and luxury, and knowing with certainty what the next day would bring?

"Hello? Mr. Destler?" Jude tentatively waved a hand in front of Erik's face and Erik sat up hastily. Jude grinned. "You zoned out on us for a minute."

"Yes, of course, just- long day-" he stammered.

"Dad, how's school?" Alex asked expectantly. Becky raised her eyebrows and excused herself to check on the nanaimo bars. "Classes are almost done, aren't they?"

"Oh yes, almost done," Erik smiled, "you know how it is. Pretty boring, pretty status quo, nothing special."

"Dad, your classes are always special," Alex insisted. She patted his forearm fondly and continued, "Well, at least tell me what are you reading in your Lit class?"

"Lit class?" Erik repeated faintly. "Uh, well, we're reading this great book-

Jude and Alex nodded encouragingly.

"-this great book by this great author, c-called, uh-"

"Dessert's ready!" Becky called from the kitchen. She came back to the dining room smiling like an angel of mercy as she wiped her hands on her World's Best Mom apron. She looked around the table, stopping for a split second with what looked like daggers in her eyes at Erik and chuckled. "Maybe I should let you all digest a little bit before I bring it out?"

Alex and Jude made the requisite groans and protests about how lovely the food had been and how full they were and Becky removed her apron before sitting down. Alex turned back to Erik with a smile. "So what great book by this great author are you reading, Professor Destler?" she teased.

"Don Quixote," Erik answered promptly, saved by Becky's minute interruption. He had been planning on assigning the book anyway. "By Miguel de Cervantes. Great book. One of my favorites. Have you ever read it, Jude?"

Jude looked flattered to be addressed so directly by the man of the house. "I did, actually, I read it in university. I thought it was great. Actually, I took Alex to see the Man of La Mancha for our first date-" he turned to her with love in his wooly mammoth face, and Alex blushingly brushed a strand of hair from her face. As she did, Erik noticed a flash of something that he clearly remembered _not_ being there before-

"Alex, _what_-"

"Nanaimo bars!" Becky suddenly cried, flying from the table. She had noticed too. "I think it's better to serve them now, they'll just get bad if we leave them out, Alex, honey, would you help me?"

"Sure, Mom," Alex replied, shooting her a puzzled look.

"- don't know if you've ever seen The Man of La Mancha, we really liked it…" Jude continued obliviously.

Erik's heart beat a dangerously fast rhythm. He could feel little droplets of sweat popping out across his forehead and without even thinking, he removed his mask to wipe it off. He vaguely noticed Jude's rambling about Don Quixote stop.

"Dad, what's the matter?" Alex knelt by his side and wiped of his forehead in concern. "You look sick."

Erik looked at her, and then he remembered how the wooly mammoth had looked at her, and he reluctantly realized the looks were identical. He didn't want to be Alex's crazy dad (well maybe a part of him relished the idea), but more importantly, he didn't ever want Alex to feel like he was in competition with Jude. He didn't want her to have to decide. He didn't want her to stop loving him.

Erik cleared his throat, wiped his face once more, replaced his mask, and clapped her on the shoulder with a smile. "I'm fine, darling. I think I just got overheated. Jude was just telling me about The Man of La Mancha, it sounds like it was lovely."

Jude flushed and Alex beamed. "Well, Jude and I have something else to tell you- Mom, Dad-"

Erik knew he was going down. He could feel a faint coming on. But he made damn sure that there was a big fat smile on his face before it happened.

"Jude and I are getting married!"


	37. Getting Married

"Alex is getting married. Alex is marrying Jude. Jude and Alex are getting married. Together."

"That's right, Erik."

"So it wasn't a dream."

"Oh no, you really did faint like a debutante at the dinner table," Becky chuckled as she wiped down the counter. "You should've seen Jude's face when you hit the floor. 'He's going to kill me,' he said. Poor kid is terrified of you."

"You don't think she'll change her mind then?" Erik wondered.

"Nope," she replied, "and I don't want her to, I'm happy with my son-in-law. And he's got a nose for cooking." She tapped her own nose and then carefully placed the remaining nanaimo bars in the refrigerator.

"Have they set a date yet?" Erik asked.

"Well, Alex said that we'll get the official invitation in the mail this week, but I think she mentioned July-"

"July?" Erik started.

"July fourth weekend," Becky finished slowly. "Why? What's the matter with July?"

Erik shrugged. There was absolutely no point in lying now. "Christine is due in July," he said flatly. "But the end of July."

"Oh," she said after a moment, "that's… coming up. Does she- did you find out if it's-"

Erik shook his head. "Don't want her to get attached," he replied softly. Becky nodded wordlessly, and wiping her hands on her apron, came to sit at the table with him.

"Where does she come from?" she wondered aloud. "What about her parents, her family? Where are they?"

Erik tapped a staccato beat on the wooden table. "She doesn't really have family," he began, "well- she thinks she doesn't. She thinks her parents are dead, but they're not. She's even got a brother-" he stopped himself mid-sentence and glanced at her self-consciously. "I'm sure you don't want to hear all of this. It's nothing."

"No, I do," she insisted. She stood up, and for a moment Erik thought she might not come back, but she did. With the remaining nanaimo bars.

"How do you make these things anyway?" Erik asked, picking one up and examining it against the kitchen light.

Becky smiled wryly. "No bake. Cookie on the bottom, frosting in the middle, and chocolate on top."

Erik nodded and stretched his long legs under the table. "They're delicious, Becky. You outdid yourself as usual."

She tilted her head in acknowledgement of the compliment and took a bite. "So tell me," she pressed softly, "tell me about her."

He laid his palms out on the table face up and shrugged slightly. "To be honest, I don't even know very much, I mean- most of what I know about her comes from her roommate, Meg- you remember her?"

She nodded. "The blonde with the tall girlfriend."

"Yes, her. Her mother was Christine's social worker, they sort of took her in- I'm not sure how old she was. They told her that her parents died in a car crash, and so Christine thinks her parents died in a car crash. They pay for her school, they pay some sort of child support, at least until she turns eighteen in June. Her father gave me ten grand when I went to see him."

Becky's eyebrows shot up. "What? For what?"

"For expenses, she's expensive, having the baby is expensive, all those doctor visits, all those vitamins that she probably doesn't even eat," Erik sighed.

"Why did they take her away from her parents?" Becky asked carefully. "And why did they tell her they were dead?"

"They were abusive," Erik replied shortly, "but Christine gets so attached to people, even if they're not…"

"Her father molested her?" Becky deduced.

"That's an understatement," Erik replied wearily. "Among others. Apparently he would share her-"

Becky made a face, and Erik sighed again. "I know, it's sick. And even after they took her away, it kept happening. She has no good touch-bad touch radar. And now it's with-"

"You," Becky finished. He didn't say anything, but it was there, on the table. He didn't have to say anything. "It almost seems like she picked you to be her father," Becky mused sadly.

"I just went about things-" his voice broke and he coughed to cover it, "-entirely the wrong way."

"How did it even start?" Becky asked, unable to keep a faint tinge of pure disbelief out of her voice.

He lowered his head and covered his face with his hands and took several deep breaths. "She got a bad grade on the first essay I assigned and she stayed after class for 'extra credit.' I just- I mean, there's no way I can make an excuse," he covered his face again, "she offered, and I accepted. How pathetic is that?"

"Pretty pathetic," Becky murmured. She silently took a bite out of her nanaimo bar and Erik did the same.

"Why haven't you divorced me yet?" Erik asked.

Becky shrugged. "I should," she replied. Erik waited, but that was all she seemed willing to give. They sat in silence, for one minute, and then five minutes, and then ten minutes of pure silence, with nothing but the gentle creaking of their red brick house to break it.

"You let them share a room," Erik finally murmured.

"Yes, Erik," Becky replied dryly, "I think it's about time. They're engaged now. They'll be leaving in the morning anyway, I'm sure they're too tired to get into any trouble."

Erik didn't even wince at the thought of Alex getting into trouble. He felt a bubbling of shame well up inside of him at the thought of Alex discovering how much trouble he had gotten into. Becky finally stood and once again wrapped up the nanaimo bars to place them in the refrigerator. Just as she turned on the oven light, Erik turned off the overhead light, leaving the kitchen glowing eerily.

As she reached to hang up her apron, Erik's hands met hers mid-air and finished the job for her. "Thank y-"

His lips covered hers before she could finish, and his hands came down from the hook to wrap around her waist. He waited for any sign that she would push him away, but she didn't. She relaxed, and Erik felt a tingling that only came from kissing her.

They crept up the stairs silently, desperate not to wake Alex, Jude, and Zack, still sleeping from hours earlier. As they fumbled into bed and undressed each other hastily, Erik realized suddenly that he might _not_ need a teenager to feel like one. It was bizarre to feel the rush of making out in the dark, trying not to get caught by the household twenty-five years later.

"I love you, Becky," he breathed, inhaling the haze of vanilla and orange blossom and clean sheets. He felt like he couldn't touch enough, like he couldn't get enough of her breasts, her thighs, her flat golden stomach. He was drowning. Why hadn't his marriage felt like this before?

"I love you too," she whispered once they had finished.

"Becky, take me back," he pleaded in a hoarse whisper under the covers, "please, I'm sorry, I swear this will never happen again. Let me come home. Forgive me."

"Erik," Becky whispered back, taking his unmasked face in her hands, "I can't answer that now. Let Christine have the baby, let Alex get married. We'll talk then. Not now; I can't give you an answer now. Just sleep."

* * *

"I want to use the computer please," Christine stammered nervously at the front desk of the school library. "My roommate told me to come here."

"Sure," the girl replied, "do you have your student ID with you?"

"Yes- here-" she pushed it across the desk and then quickly retreated her hands back to their comfortable perch on her belly. "Can I come here whenever I want?" she wondered, looking around the high ceilinged room in awe.

"Yep," the girl replied, "all you need is a school ID and your login information, I wrote it down here. Sign your name, and you can go over to the far wall and pick out any computer you want. We have Macs and PCs."

Christine blinked at the rush of information and quickly signed her name as neatly as she could. She even dotted the 'i' in Christine with a little heart. What was a PC? She waddled carefully to the corner with her little slip of paper and picked out a computer with a bright white monitor. Once she had typed in her login information, she found the little compass icon she had seen Meg use on her own laptop and found herself facing The Internet.

She tapped her fingers on her belly uncertainly, then carefully typed the only word she could think of into the search box.

_Baby._

Immediately, a new page appeared with entries that all had the word 'baby' in the title. She squinted and looked at each one carefully; no, she didn't want to listen to Justin Beiber, and she didn't want to look at a toy store. She clicked 'Images' and was transported to a page covered in photos of babies. Her eyes widened, and she cooed unconsciously.

"Babies…" she murmured in delight. Almost in response to Christine's excitement, the baby budged and then kicked. All of the babies in the photos were smiling and chubby and wrapped up in cuddly looking pastel blankets and Christine suddenly felt a very large lump at the back of her throat. Her hands fluttered uselessly and she realized offhandedly that if she were to faint here in this grand library, nobody would catch her.

With a trembling hand, she click on one of the babies' faces- the one with the chubbiest cheeks and biggest smile- and stared in wonder at the website before her. There were so many things on one page, it was hard to decide where to click. Suddenly, a dialog box popped up.

_Welcome! How many weeks are you?_

She clicked 26. She squinted at the information, but it was too dense, too long, and too colorless to concentrate. She was about to click the button to go back to the photos of the smiling babies when one sentence jumped out and caught her eye.

_Your baby can recognize your voice. _

"Oh," she hummed, widening her eyes in surprise, "Baby can recognize your voice, Baby can recognize my voice," she repeated to herself in a whisper. "Because it's my baby, and I'm its mama." She looked down at the cotton dress stretched tight across her middle (her only concession to maternity wear was to start buying things in medium) and beamed. "You are _my_ baby," she announced in a loud whisper.

"Christine?" a hushed voice suddenly asked from over her shoulder. She spun around and her mouth formed an 'O' of surprise. "Raoul!" she exclaimed.

"Shhh, shh, I'm not supposed to be here," he whispered back sheepishly, adjusting his baseball cap, "I got suspended, remember? I'm not allowed to be on school grounds, but I used to date Rachel at the desk, so she let me in."

Christine suddenly remembered that she had, in fact, broken up with Raoul, and the last she could remember was that she had been trying to avoid him. Her gaze flitted back and forth uneasily, but Raoul placed a comfortingly hand on her shoulder.

"I'm not here to bother you, Christine," he promised, "I'm just-" He stopped as he caught sight of what she had been looking at. "Babies? Why are you looking up…" but his voice trailed off as his eyes made their way down her pink and white striped dress until they reached the straining fabric across her belly. "Holy shit! Are you _pregnant_?"

Christine squeaked in response.

"But-" he frowned in confusion, "I didn't even notice! When did this happen?"

She simply stared at him, stock still. Perhaps, if she didn't move, he would stop asking her questions.

Raoul's eyes suddenly filled with tenderness and he touched her belly as gently as the former football player could. "Christine… is it- is it _mine_?"

Christine's thoughts went straight to Professor Destler, and she remembered his warning not to tell anyone that he was the father. But Raoul would surely ask her, and then he might be angry at her no matter what answer she gave, and she didn't want him or anyone to be angry at her, because all she had wanted to do was look at her baby pictures in peace, but then he showed up-

"I'm sorry!" she blurted. And then she burst into tears.

"Oh, Christine," Raoul moaned, gathering her into his arms and stroking her hair the way Professor Destler did, "please don't cry, baby. Don't you worry. I'm going to take care of you."

Even through her hiccuping tears, Christine felt a fuzzy warmth spreading through her as Raoul's promise registered. He would take care of her. She sniffed loudly, and then smiled and closed her eyes into his shoulder. Maybe he could take care of Baby too.

* * *

"And so you told him that he was the father," Meg deadpanned. "I can't put my finger on it, but somehow that seems like a bad idea."

"No, I _didn't_ tell him that," Christine insisted, pointing her finger around the room vaguely, "He said it. He said it first."

"Why were you in the library anyway?" Meg sat up and stared at her roommate curiously. "Have you ever been there before?"

"I was looking at babies," Christine replied happily, "I just typed 'baby' and I found lots and lots of pictures of babies. Did y-" she suddenly shut her mouth and turned back to painting her toenails. Somehow, the fact that Baby could recognize her voice wasn't something she wanted to share.

"Did I know what?" Meg asked suspiciously.

"Raoul got suspended," Christine blurted. "He hurt Mr. Farlow. He said that Professor gave him the idea."

"_What_? When did all of this even happen?" Meg asked.

"I don't know when Raoul got suspended… I saw him in the library a couple of days ago. He asked me out on a date tonight! That's why I'm painting my toenails. It's springtime so I can show my toes," Christine informed Meg matter-of-factly.

"Well, it's the least he can do since he thinks he's got a baby on the way. He knows that you're giving it up for adoption, right?" Meg asked sternly.

Christine just shrugged evasively. Before Meg could continue, they heard a shrill pop song from somewhere in Christine's bed. She lunged and answered the phone breathlessly; "Hi Raoul! O-ok, yes, mmhmm, okey dokey," she giggled and made a kissing noise into the phone. Meg pretended to barf.

"I have to go now," Christine declared, pulling on a blue dress. "Raoul told me to wear something pretty; he's coming to get me now."

"Christine, it's not summer yet, put on a sweater and some tights," Meg demanded.

"But it's springtime," Christine replied in disappointment.

"But it's Connecticut. You'll get frostbite. Where are you going anyway?"

"Raoul said it's a surprise. I have to go now, Meg, bye bye!" She bent to kiss Meg on the forehead and then thrust her belly forward. "Give Baby a kiss, Auntie Meg, Baby wants a kiss!"

"No Christine, I refuse, I am not Auntie Meg, and that's not your baby. Think of it like someone lending you a movie," Meg insisted, "you can watch the movie for a while, but eventually you have to give it back, right?"

Christine frowned and grabbed her purse. "Baby is not a movie," she huffed, waddling out the door.

"Christine!" Raoul beamed as she waddled his way. "Here-" he thrust a bouquet of pink roses at her and then lunged forward awkwardly. Her belly stopped him, and he bumped his teeth on her forehead while she was smelling her flowers. He grunted, and she shrieked.

"You bit my head!" she wailed.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean to," Raoul reasoned, hastily grabbing her hand and wiping the blood off before she could see. He licked his thumb the way his mom did and wiped away the bright red drop that had materialized on Christine's white forehead. "I'm sorry."

The car ride felt slightly uncomfortable. Raoul stole side glances at her the whole way- he couldn't make up his mind about how she looked pregnant. He couldn't shake the urge to yank up her dress and reveal the small basketball it looked like she had hidden there. The rest of her looked the same, except maybe her cheeks were a little bit rounder. Instead of making her look older, being pregnant somehow seemed to make Christine look younger.

"We're going to my parents' house," he finally blurted. "I want to introduce you since we're having a baby and everything."

"Why?" she wondered.

"Well… because they're my parents," Raoul replied uncertainly, "and you're my- my- well, we're having a baby. So, um, that's why." He frowned as he realized how ridiculous he sounded. Christine was frowning too. She was still thinking about that bite on her forehead.

"You'll meet the rest of my family too," Raoul added after another several minutes of uncomfortable silence, "my sisters and brother will be there."

"How many sisters?" Christine asked.

"Two. They're really boring, they're just old and married. My brother's old too, but he's pretty cool. He used to be my parents' favorite, but then he moved to India for a year and when he came back he started dating a Buddhist girl and teaching yoga. Hey, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No," she grumbled. She arched her back, but Raoul's car was too small and too low for her to get comfortable. She opened her mouth to complain about how she had asked her daddy for a little brother or sister but he had forcefully told her 'no' but at that moment, she felt another grip of the bizarre sensation she had felt right after her doctor's appointment. "Ohhhh," she moaned.

"What's the matter?" Raoul asked anxiously. He struggled to keep his eyes on the road and her at the same time. Behind them, the car following honked.

"Baby is practicing," she recited softly. That's what Professor had told her when it happened and he called the doctor's office. He said it was like a rehearsal for a show. The baby wasn't ready to come out yet, but it had to practice so it would know how when it was ready. "Just practicing."

"How does the baby practice?" Raoul asked warily. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

She shrugged. "Maybe it's doing flips, or dancing. Like for a show."

"Christine, I just want you to know that I'll be there for you the whole time," Raoul suddenly declared gallantly, "I'll stay in the hospital room with you and I promise I won't even get grossed out."

"Grossed out by what?" Christine asked.

Raoul quickly shot her an _are you serious_ look, but hastily patted her hand before she noticed. "Nothing. Nevermind. Hey look, we're here."

They pulled up into a circular driveway. Christine gasped loudly. The house was even bigger than Professor Destler's- in fact, it looked like it was nearly twice the size. To either side of them, a perfectly manicured deep green lawn stretched neat and tight around the imposing gray mansion in front of them, and finally stopped at a line of straight, stern Christmas trees. Christmas trees on your very own front lawn; Christine was suddenly very excited.

"Oh wow," she whispered, fumbling to open her door while soaking in every detail of the house that she could. Discretely hidden spotlights illuminated the walkway and made the windows and front door sparkle like they had been brushed over with fairy dust. It looked like it could be a palace.

"Wait! Let me!" Raoul insisted, running over to her side to open the door for her. He tripped over a fern and fell head first into the passenger door as Christine swung it open obliviously. "Wait for what?" she called.

By the time they both made it to the front door, Christine's scratch had scabbed over, leaving her with an ugly brown blob right in the middle of her face, and Raoul's bump had started to swell. He rang the doorbell and took a deep breath as he held Christine's arm firmly. This was the girl he loved. This was his baby. He was ready.

His parents answered the door together. They were smiling and tanned, and wearing matching cashmere. "Mom, Dad," Raoul began proudly, "I want you to meet Christine. Christine, these are my parents."

Christine beamed and waved. Lisa de Chagny took one look at Christine's belly, and then fainted on the newly waxed floors.

* * *

"Did I do something bad?" Christine worried, as one of Raoul's older sisters handed her a cup of sparkling water. She rubbed her belly fretfully and kept shooting looks through the hall.

"No, don't worry," his sister assured her, "Mom was just a little… shocked by-"

"None of us knew you were pregnant," Jo, the other older sister, interrupted bluntly, "or that Raoul was dating you again."

"Jo, be nice," Sophie pleaded under her breath. She gave her a a meaningful look and jerked her head in Christine's direction. Then she twirled her finger around slowly, making an unmistakable 'coockoo' gesture and widened her eyes to make sure her sister got the message. Jo huffed and stormed into the hall.

"Just give us all a minute, Christine, they'll be back soon," Sophie said to Christine in her soothing Mommy voice. "It's a big surprise, that's all, but don't worry, nobody's angry at you-"

"_SHE PROBABLY GOT PREGNANT ON PURPOSE!"_ A door slammed, feet stomped, and then another door slammed. Even Christine couldn't have missed the shouting, clearly about her. She looked up at Sophie, and even her slight resemblance to Mrs. Becky- with the pearl necklace and smart bobbed blonde hair- didn't comfort her. She just felt miserable.

"_SUSPENDED FROM SCHOOL?" _This time, the shriek was clearly female. Apparently, Mrs. de Chagny had woken up.

"_YOU BEAT UP-"_

_ "DAVE FARLOW?"_

This time, the voices were mixed. Christine blushed bright red and tried to sink into the couch. She hoped Raoul wouldn't tell them why he beat Mr. Farlow up. She didn't want anyone to know about that.

"Soph, what the hell's going on?" a hushed male voice suddenly cut across the awkward silence left in the wake of the de Chagnys' shouting. Christine looked up to see a very large, very tanned, very muscular gentleman walk into the room with a bewildered expression on his face.

"Funny Phil!" she exclaimed.

He turned his head and started when he saw her there. "Christine!" he grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"You two know each other?" Sophie asked uneasily.

"Funny Phil does story time at the hospital," Christine explained happily.

"And Christine always seems to find an excuse to come and visit me there," Phillip chuckled, taking a seat next to Christine in the love seat. "Put it there, kiddo, how've you been?" he asked, giving her a high five.

"I'm-"

"_- WHAT DO YOU MEAN, __**KICKED OFF THE FOOTBALL TEAM**__!"_

"Raoul invited me for dinner," she mumbled.

"Oh," understanding suddenly dawned, and Phillip carefully took his arm back from being casually draped behind her. "Oh."

"How are classes?" Sophie asked her brother after another couple of minutes of painful silence.

"Really great, they're going really well," Philip smiled serenely, "it's a good thing so many celebrities are into yoga, makes everyone want to do it."

"You know I might take your class one of these days," Sophie said thoughtfully, "must be relaxing-"

"Dinner is ready," Jo sniffed from the doorway, refusing to look at Christine. The four of them trailed in a silent line to the dining room, where Raoul and his parents were already waiting. John de Chagny was red faced and breathing heavily; it looked like he might explode at any minute. Lisa de Chagny's face was tearstained and she kept shooting Raoul heartbroken looks. Raoul looked like he was pouting.

"Here Christine, why don't you sit next to me," Phillip suggested hastily, pulling the chair across from Raoul. "Let me get you some more sparkling water."

"Thank you," she whispered. She felt that if she raised her voice any louder, it might reawaken the temper of Mr. de Chagny. She didn't want him to yell at her too. She felt like covering her face with her napkin so nobody would know she was there.

"So Sophie, how're the kids?" Phillip began conversationally.

"They're fine, Phil. Gretchen is on the honor roll and Paul's been named goalie of the soccer team." Sophie replied politely before quickly returning to her peas. It seemed that she too, was afraid to speak too much and break the buzzing silence.

"Honor roll and goalie," Phillip repeated with a nod. He took a sip of wine and then turned to his sister, Josephine. "How about you, Jo? How's the PTA going?"

"PTA doesn't change much, Phillip," Josephine snapped, "and before you ask, yes, I'm still driving my minivan."

Christine decided she didn't like Jo. Her hair was darker than Sophie's and though their haircuts were similar, Jo's seemed much more severe. She reminded her of her mother. She liked Sophie, who kept shooting nervous glances all around the table and smiling sympathetically in Christine's direction. Sophie was nice. Phillip was large, masculine, and nice to her; it went without saying that she definitely liked him too.

"Mom, I tried that new apple pie recipe-" Sophie began tentatively, but suddenly a chair scraped across the hardwood floors and they all turned to see Raoul standing up resolutely in front of his plate.

"Listen up everyone, I've got something to say," he announced in a voice that sounded like he wasn't quite sure what it was. "I know- I know Mom and Dad are angry at me, but- but this is something I have to do, and everyone's just going to have to learn to live with it or-" he gulped and plowed on- "or learn to live without me." He started walking around the table until he reached Christine's side. She hadn't moved; her fork was still midair, full of peas. She was staring at it as hard as she possibly could. Maybe if she didn't look, he would go back and sit down.

"Christine," Raoul cleared his throat and pulled her hand down from above her plate. He gently turned her around until she was forced to stare at him in terror.

"Go finish your peas, Raoul," she suggested timidly.

"Christine, I have something to ask you and I want to ask you in front of my whole family," he declared, bending down on one knee and pulling a small box out of his pocket.

"No!" his mother cried in strangled voice, half jumping out of her seat.

"Oh please," Jo scoffed under her breath.

"Idiot," his father rumbled.

"Oh my," sighed Sophie.

"I've got to take this call," Phil said apologetically. They could faintly hear his end of the conversation as he took it into the hall. "Hey Becky, it's so nice to hear from you…"

"Christine," Raoul continued, compulsively swallowing every two words, "will you marry me?"


	38. If One Doesn't Work

**Hi guys! This chapter is finally done (and a little shorter than average)! I hope you like it. Thank you so much for all of your support, I adore reading your reviews. I also get lots of ideas from them- it seems like nobody can agree on this fic, it is so all over the place! In completely unrelated personal news, this is my first chapter from my new apartment! :D Very exciting. Read and enjoy!**

* * *

"You're getting _married_?" Erik exclaimed into the telephone. "To _Raoul_?"

"Mfjndfhhm," Christine mumbled into her pillow.

"Why?" Erik cried in distress. "I don't understand! Is this a cry for attention? Why is everyone getting married?"

"Because Raoul asked me to," she whined unconvincingly. "And he gave me a ring. A pretty one."

"That pretty ring set his father back a cool five thousand dollars, did he tell you that?" Erik snapped.

"No."

"Yeah, well-" Erik huffed and finally sat down. "It did."

"How do you know, anyway?" Christine demanded, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "I didn't tell you."

"Because I golf with John de Chagny. He told me this weekend."

"I don't like him," Christine sniffed imperiously, "he's not very nice. He yells too much."

"Well, I think it's understandable, considering the circumstances," Erik gestured in the air helplessly, "all in one night, imagine. The man is expecting a Sunday dinner with his family and his youngest son shows up with a pregnant girlfriend, announces that he's been kicked off the football team and out of school for beating up a faculty member- and a fellow golf club member- and then he proposes in the middle of dinner. I might yell too."

"But you're the daddy," Christine said, rubbing her belly with a smile, "not Raoul."

"Why did you tell him it was his?" Erik finally asked.

"I didn't!" she insisted indignantly. "_He_ said it. He's the one who said it. Not me. I didn't say anything."

"Well, you've got yourself a new fiancé out of not saying anything," Erik muttered. He strummed his fingers on the table then said suddenly- "I don't think you should marry him-" at the same time Christine blurted- "I don't want to marry him."

There was silence on the line, but each had heard the other's part. Erik groaned to himself and started thumping his head against the table. Christine chewed her pinkie nail on the other end of the line and then rubbed her tummy absentmindedly. "Professor," she asked after another moment, "can I come over?"

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

* * *

She knew where to meet him by now, on a street right off campus where nobody would notice a pregnant student getting into a tenured professor's car. He started when he saw her- _where did that basketball come from?_ She waddled carefully, holding the basketball protectively, and with good reason- she stumbled twice just on her way from the curb to his car.

Protective instincts suddenly shot through him and he flew to her side and opened the door for her, then carefully helped her sit down. She looked flushed, but pleased, if a bit surprised at his sudden chivalry. "Watch your fingers, darling," he worried before slamming the door.

"You're getting so big," he marveled once they were both inside. "Look at you, you may weigh nearly one hundred and twenty pounds now. May I?" He held his hand over the crest of her belly; she beamed and pressed his hand against her eagerly.

"Baby wriggles a lot," she smiled, "feel?"

He nodded. He did feel. It was just as she had described- a wriggle. Not really a kick, just a wriggle. He leaned over the gearbox and pressed his ear to where his hand had just been. BOOM! This time, there was a kick, right into his ear. He jumped back in surprise, and Christine clapped in delight. "Baby's saying hello!" she exclaimed. "Baby knows who you are. It knows you're their Daddy."

"Do you think so?" he asked wryly, starting the car and backing out onto the road.

She nodded solemnly. "Babies can recognize voices now," she informed him. She looked carefully at her belly, then back to Erik. "Do you think Baby will look more like me or like you?" she asked.

"Like you," he replied softly, "blue eyes, and curly brown hair. He or she will be beautiful."

"Do you think so?" she asked earnestly.

"Yes," he replied honestly, "I do." He smiled at her and ruffled her hair. "So let's see this five thousand dollar ring."

She giggled and held out her left hand. It was surprising subdued for being chosen on a whim by a twenty-one year old with his father's credit card- it was just a simple round solitaire, with an even simpler platinum band. Classic, and (in Erik's humble opinion) slightly boring.

"I would've gotten you a _pink_ ring," he confided in a loud whisper. "A heart shaped pink diamond, how does that sound?"

She clapped her hands again and giggled happily. "With Diamond Barbie!"

"And pink heart shaped diamond earrings, and a bracelet, and a necklace, of course," Erik continued.

"And a big white wedding dress!" Christine exclaimed. "With lots and lots of pouf!"

"Only the pouffiest wedding dress would do," Erik agreed solemnly as they finally pulled up in front of his low rent apartment. Christine saw where they were and she deflated a little bit. Her face fell and she clapped her hands on her belly sadly.

"But we're not getting married," she admitted with a furrowed brow. "You're already married. You already got a big white wedding dress."

"Well… Becky wore it," Erik agreed quietly.

"Marrying Raoul won't be so bad," Christine reasoned uncertainly, "I like Raoul. Raoul's my friend."

Erik bit his tongue for a long time before finally stepping out of the car. "You must be hungry," he said with a plastered on smile. She nodded and he kissed her forehead. "I'll make you a sandwich."

Once they were upstairs, Christine quickly settled into the couch and propped up her feet on the coffee table while Erik set to making her sandwich in the kitchen. While tracing lazy swirls across her tummy, she felt a kick, and then another one. "Stop that," she scolded in a whisper, "don't kick me, I'm your Mama." Her entire belly shifted in response and she stared in awe as the left half undulated over the baby's head. "Professor!" she called excitedly. "Come look!"

"What is it?" he asked, stepping out of the kitchen in his apron.

"Come look, my tummy is _moving_," she purred. She grabbed his hand when he stepped near and pressed it against the bulging left half of her tummy. "Feel that?" she giggled. "Baby is doing flips inside. Isn't that cool?"

It was cool, he admitted to himself. If he tilted his head and squinted hard enough, he thought he could almost make out a minuscule footprint straining against her translucent white skin. He shook his head and pulled back. With a quick nod and a smile, he walked back to the kitchen. "Let me finish your lunch, Christine," he called behind him.

When he brought it out, Christine was sprawled across the couch looking immodestly comfortable watching The Powerpuff Girls. She cooed happily when she saw the sandwich. "Christine, sit properly," Erik instructed, holding the plate above her head. "You'll get it all over yourself if you eat like that."

"No I won't," she insisted, reaching for it. "Give it to me!"

"Sit. Up."

"I'm comfortable like this," she whined.

"I'll have to eat it myself then," Erik replied primly, sitting next to her and opening his mouth to take a bite.

She lunged and snatched the whole plate from him, knocking off his mask in the process. As he dusted himself off indignantly, Erik heard tears. He turned to Christine in shock. "Christine, are you crying?" he asked. He brushed back her curtain of hair and found that she was indeed sobbing over her sandwich. "Christine, why are you crying?" he asked in bewilderment.

"You wouldn't give me my sandwich," she wept.

"Because I didn't want you making a mess of yourself, that's all," he replied in disbelief.

"You were going to eat it," she cried.

"No I wasn't, Christine," he said, throwing up his hands. "I was just kidding, I was trying to get you to listen to me."

She just shook her head and cried. She finally had to put the sandwich down and cover her face because she was crying so hard. Erik stared at her in shock, completely at a loss. Finally, he pulled her into his lap, pushed back her hair, and wiped her eyes with his sleeve. "Christine," he said softly, "what's the matter? Tell me what's wrong."

"My sandwich," she hiccuped in distress.

"I don't think you're really upset about the sandwich," he ventured, "I think something else is bothering you. Are you upset about-" he swallowed and forced himself to continue- "Raoul?"

She shook her head and pressed her dripping nose into his neck, and continued to sob. Finally, when Erik had nearly given up on finding the reason and was merely rubbing her back to stop her crying, she took a breath and cried, "I don't want to give Baby away!"

Erik felt as though a weight had been dropped right into his stomach. Christine continued to cry. "I love Baby," she blubbered, "and Baby loves me too. Baby can recognize my voice. I don't want to give Baby away."

"But Christine-" Erik began hoarsely, trying to sound level-headed, "we've already talked about this. Don't you want Baby to go to a nice family, to live in a nice big house, and have a mommy and a daddy who can take care of him or her properly?"

"No!" she cried. "I want Baby to stay with me!"

He tried another tactic. "Babies are a lot of work, Christine," he reasoned, "all they do is cry, and cry, and cry, and cry, even when nothing is wrong. And then they want to eat all the time- in the middle of class, or when you're at the movies, or in the middle of the night when you're trying to sleep… it's exhausting, taking care of a baby."

Christine didn't respond, she only kept crying.

"You know, Christine, nowadays, there are lots of different types of adoption," Erik continued as a last resort. He blanched even as he heard himself speak, but he reasoned it was the only way to calm her down. "And if you wanted, you could maybe keep in touch with the family that adopts Baby- you could visit sometime, and send birthday presents, that sort of thing."

"I can?" she asked tremulously, pulling away from his neck and wiping her nose on his sleeve. He winced but nodded. Her lower lip trembled, but her sobs had subsided and she was only hiccuping once a minute, instead of twice. "That sounds-" she sniffled loudly and wiped her nose on her own sleeve this time- "like a good idea."

"So you see, there's no reason to cry really," Erik said gently. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. She instinctively pressed against him and her sniffling into his neck soon turned into little kisses and nips into his neck. Her lips trailed over his mask and finally pressed against his; her tongue quickly followed.

But instead of feeling titillated, Erik suddenly felt hot and uncomfortable. His night with Becky flashed across his mind, and he felt something stronger than it had been throughout the course of the whole affair: guilt. It bubbled in his gut like a bad steak and crept to each corner of his body, filling his fingers, toes, and ears with steam that hissed _this is wrong._

But this time, it wasn't a belated guilt. It wasn't a halfhearted guilt that settled over him like a bleak but harmless rain cloud after he touched Christine or lied to Becky. This sensation of guilt filled him to the point that he knew he had to stop before the steam burned him up from the inside out.

"Christine, stop," he said hoarsely, pulling her off his lap and moving to the opposite end of the couch. "I can't."

Christine was breathing heavily and blinking around the room as if she wasn't quite sure what had happened. Her pupils were dilated and Erik held up his hand in warning when he saw the look in her eye. She was about to pounce.

He was right- she ignored him and crawled back to him and tried to ply her way back into his lap, but he gently held her back by her shoulders and shook his head. "B-but why-" she whimpered desperately, "w-what's the matter?"

"I can't," Erik groaned. He stood up and started to pace; Christine started twirling her hair fretfully.

"Are you angry at me?" she asked tremulously, "Did I do something bad?"

"No, Christine, it's not you," Erik sighed. He sat back down next to her and put his hand on her belly. "I think you should marry Raoul," he whispered finally, leaning over and kissing her forehead, "Raoul can take of you; well, his parents can at least. Raoul really likes you, Christine, and- well, he's much closer to your age than I am-"

"But I thought you didn't want me to marry him!" she started to cry. "I thought I was going to marry you!"

"I can't, Christine, I can't," Erik cried, jumping up form the couch again. He turned to find Christine trying to push herself up from the couch; her forearms were trembling, and her face was deathly white. "Christine, relax, honey, sit back down, you're going to hurt yourself-"

"No!" her strangled protest was weak as Erik pushed her back down. "You told me you loved me and now you don't love me anymore. You told me you were going to stay with me forever but now you want me to leave you alone! You told me not to marry Raoul and now you want me to marry him! Well, you change your mind t-t-too much!" she sobbed, "And it's confusing me!"

"But I _do_ love you-"

She sobbed harder and tried to fight him off pathetically.

"-don't you see, I don't even know how I love you," Erik insisted desperately. "I go back to Becky, and I suddenly feel what I was supposed to feel seven months ago, when I met you. Like she's my wife. Like I love her, I love her the way I've been supposed to love my wife. But you…" He stopped and held Christine's face in his palms. "I love you like a daughter. I love you like a lover. I love you like a student. I love you in a hundred ways I'm not supposed to love you. So what can I do, Christine?" His voice cracked and he held her face in earnest. "What kind of relationship can I have with you?"

"I don't know," she sobbed, "I don't care." She shrugged hopelessly and stared at the floor. "I never get to keep anything. I can't keep you, I can't keep Baby, I can't keep anything." She sucked in a shaky breath and reclined across the couch with a resigned air. "I'm just going to keep watching Powerpuff Girls."

"I'll watch with you," Erik murmured, once he had wiped his own eyes discreetly. Christine allowed him to sit below her, so she could rest her head on his knee, and they spent the rest of the night watching cartoons and fighting back tears.

* * *

When Christine was three, her mother took away a book of fairy tales Christine's father used to read to her at night, before spending the night with her not reading stories. She snatched the hardcover book away from where Christine was examining it on the floor by herself one day, and used it to give her a stinging slap on the bottom before tossing it in the trash. Her husband hadn't returned her calls all day and he had spent the previous night with Christine and _that damn book_.

Christine didn't remember her mother taking it away or being hit with it; one day in the public library ten years later, she found the same book of fairy tales and suddenly remembered being read to by her father. She didn't have a library card, but she had loved the book and she wanted it. She had never stolen anything before. She took the book off the shelf and walked out the door. The alarm beeped, and she took off running as fast as she could, and she didn't stop until she no longer heard footsteps behind her. She simply never went to the library again, and she got to keep her book.

Raoul really was very nice, Christine thought as she peeked a glance at his profile in the car. They were going on a picnic in the park, and Christine was in charge of the blanket. She had wanted to be in charge of the food basket, but when Raoul saw her stuffing it with dry pasta, he hastily took over and put her in charge of the blanket.

"But I wanted to be in charge of the food basket," she pouted when he pulled it away from her.

"Being in charge of the blanket is a really important job, Christine," Raoul fibbed distractedly. Everything he did lately seemed to be distracted; the only time he didn't look distracted was when he looked at Christine's tummy. Then he always swallowed about four times in a row.

Getting married was turning out to be a lot harder than he had ever anticipated. For starters, his parents were majorly ticked off. They seemed to think that Christine got herself pregnant on purpose after realizing how much the de Changy's were worth, and was now planning to milk foolish Raoul for all he had.

"Mom, trust me," Raoul had explained in earnest that night when he dropped the bomb, "Christine didn't plan _anything_. Christine can't even plan her lunch."

Of course they didn't believe him. And why had he felt the need to buy her a _five_ thousand dollar engagement ring, by the way? By the way he described her, it sounded like she was the type of girl who would've been satisfied with a ring from the Crackerjack box.

He didn't have an answer for that one. It just seemed like a good idea to get a ring at the time.

Well, where was he planning on living with his new wife and baby? In the dorms? That was when he explained uncomfortably that he was actually no longer allowed on campus because-

"Dear Lord, Melanie is in my book club on Wednesday," Lisa de Chagny said faintly after her husband screamed until his skin was purple, "no wonder she hasn't been coming."

"Mom, Dad, you don't understand, Dave Farlow is a major _prick_-"

His mother frantically started to fan herself.

"- and he deserved what he got. He attacked Christine!" Raoul spluttered in his defense.

So he was left with no school, no home (he was living on a beatnik friend of Nadir's couch for the time being- not that his parents knew this) and yet he was planning to marry his pregnant (gold-digging), seventeen year old (his mother teetered unsteadily when he admitted how old she was) girlfriend. Did that sound about right, Raoul?

He hung his head in shame. It did sound about right. Dinner that night was an exercise in torture; he thought Josephine was going to come out of the kitchen with a butcher's knife when it was time to serve dessert, and Sophie's sickly sweet sighs and glances of sympathy and consolation at everyone at the table just made Raoul want to throw up. At least Phil spent most of the night on the phone; he didn't think he could handle the tension his Lycra wifebeater would inspire.

It seemed like he wasn't the only one who was less than sure about getting married. When he finally proposed to Christine at the dinner table, after being told to sit down and finish his peas, her reaction was not exactly confidence inspiring.

"Um…" she mumbled, biting her pinkie nail and shooting uncertain looks all around the table, "Well, um…"

Raoul could feel his face turning redder by the minute; he could practically feel the waves of disbelief his mother was radiating. He was going against his family's wishes by proposing to this girl and her reply is 'well, um'?

"Christine?" Raoul prompted with a forced smile when it looked like she had zoned out after a moment of reflecting. "Will you marry me?"

She hummed thoughtfully and rubbed her tummy. Jo made a noise of disgust and John de Chagny groaned loudly. "Well, ok," she finally replied.

So she accepted. Now it was his parents' (but mostly his mother's) mission to convince him to give the baby up for adoption. No baby, no wedding. Truth be told, he had never actually asked Christine what she was planning on doing with the baby. He guessed it was too late to get an abortion since nobody had brought that up as an option yet. He kind of liked the idea of a baby; babies basically just slept, ate and pooped all day like cats, and then they got bigger and you could play catch with them. Who said teen pregnancy had to be hard?

And then his sister Jo called him over on the pretense of having lunch. Except when he arrived, something had 'come up' suddenly, and oh would he mind taking care of _this_- she had dumped her screaming newborn into his arms- until she got back?

"Wait, Jo, I don't know how to take care of babies!" he cried, holding the little girl out in front of him. She screamed obliviously. She also was drooling. "What do I do with her? Why is she crying? When are you coming back?"

"Oh, well-" Jo called back something undecipherable and waved her hand and she hopped into her shiny red minivan. Raoul narrowed his eyes and could suddenly see why Phil hated that car so much. He brought the baby back inside and tried to coax her to stop crying. He walked with her. He talked with her. He patted her head like a little chihuahua, but the kid would not stop screaming. Finally, he put her in her crib and sat on the floor and covered his ears.

An hour later, the baby had stopped crying and Raoul was passed out on the floor in front of the crib. His sister nudged him awake with her foot and a smug expression on her face. "Oh hey," he said, getting to his feet. He nonchalantly smoothed his hair and tried to look like it had been a breeze, but nothing fooled his sister. She made him lunch, and on his way out, she handed him a brochure that said ADOPTION in big black letters.

"You've filled your stupid quota for the year, Raoul," she said sarcastically, "now don't ruin the rest of Mom's book clubs this year."

So now every time Raoul looked at Christine, all he could see was a screaming, crying, red faced, drooling creature growing bigger and bigger inside of her. He had started breaking out into sweats when he saw her. That was why he invited her on the picnic. It was Time To Talk.

"Raoul, I think we should get married next week."

Christine had beaten him to the punch, and very decisively. She was settled comfortably on the picnic blanket and had a look of deep concentration on her face. "What?" he replied in alarm. He even dropped the apple he was pulling out of the food basket. "WHY?"

"So then Baby will already have a nice family to live with," she reasoned, "and Baby can stay with me."

"Christine, about that…" he turned to look at her, but all he could see was her belly. "Maybe it's not such a good idea to um- keep the baby…"

Christine's shoulder's slumped and her breath hitched. Raoul was puzzled. He knew Christine roomed with Meg and he knew that Meg was one bossy lesbian who didn't take any nonsense from anyone. How did Christine even get the idea of keeping the baby into her head, with Meg's influence?

"But I want Baby," she whispered, "Baby is mine. Baby can be yours too, if we get married. We can share."

"Yeah, but- well, I guess I just got kind of wrapped up in the moment," Raoul waffled, "I mean, I didn't see you for weeks, and then when I do, you're _huge_ all of a sudden, and well, what was I supposed to do?" He threw up his hands and looked at her defensively, but she wasn't looking at him. She was looking at her stomach. "But I've been talking to my parents, and-"

"_They_ don't like me," Christine suddenly snipped. She dug her fingers into the grass behind her and tugged up a handful of dirt. "I didn't do anything to them! And now I can't keep you either!" She threw her dirt down angrily and crossed her arms.

"Well, think about it, Christine," Raoul whined, "babies cry. A lot. And they're super expensive, and well- _you_ don't have a job, and _I_ don't have a job and we don't have anywhere to live either- hey, what are you doing?" For Christine was suddenly sitting in his lap and batting her big, blue, beautiful eyes-

"Waaaait a second," Raoul said, holding up the hands she had been trying to coax around her waist. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "The last time I fell for this, you broke up with me, I beat up a teacher, got suspended from school, moved onto a pothead's couch, proposed, and faced financial estrangement from my parents."

"Raoul," Christine purred.

"Mmm, well, these _do_ look bigger than the last time I saw them…"


	39. Confrontations

**Eek, so I fell into my bad habit of not updating for a long time. I'm sorry. :( But here's a long chapter! And finally, after over 6 years, this thing is starting to wind down. We are nearing the end! Read and enjoy!**

* * *

"Let me get this straight. You want to throw Christine a _baby shower_."

"Not a baby shower exactly- I know we're counting on her giving it up for adoption-"

"Not counting on. Will happen."

Gabrielle rolled her eyes and reclined in her seat. She took a sip of her Iced Chai Tea Latte and regarded her opponent thoughtfully. "Meg, you're mighty sure of yourself when it comes to planning out Christine's life," she remarked.

"Somebody has to be, Gabrielle," Meg replied sweetly, "and if you don't mind me saying, I think throwing Christine a baby shower is a fabulously BAD idea!" She threw her hands in the air and nearly knocked down her own caffè americano. "What are you trying to do, egg her on that much more? _Congratulate_ her for getting pregnant? _Encourage_ her to do it again?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that Christine 'got pregnant' the way most people get pregnant," Gabrielle pointed out shortly. "She didn't even know what her _period_ was. Listen, that's why I'm not calling it a baby shower, more like a…" She shook her head as she searched for the right words. "Like a Christine shower, a little party just for her, we don't have to mention a word about the baby, it will all be about her. She's getting attached to that baby, Meg, whether you like it or not, and when reality comes in and takes it away from her, her world is going to get shaken. At least let's give her something to be happy about while we can."

Meg brooded over her coffee and silently judged Gabrielle's perfect French manicure and spring seersucker blazer. Her own nails were chipped, weak, and it bad need of some maintenance. "Well what did you have in mind?" she finally asked.

Gabrielle beamed and pulled out a manilla folder from her handbag. Meg rolled her eyes and ignored the question in her mind- who carried around manilla folders in their handbags?

"Look, this is a a small spa in the center of town. They have group rates- if we're four or more we get a big discount. The deal includes manicures, pedicures, hair styling- and a cut for Christine- and one extra service that can be chosen individually. I thought of this one for Christine- see, it's a maternity massage? It's supposed to be good for her and the baby-" she stopped at the expression on Meg's face- "that we are pretending does not exist. Got it. So what do you think?"

"Manicures, hmm?" Meg murmured under her breath. "I guess that's not too expensive really… for next weekend though? We'll need four people."

"Well, we have Christine, me, you, and Sauna," Gabrielle counted on her fingers. "We're set."

"Fine," Meg sighed. "How are we going to deal with getting Christine there?"

* * *

"But I don't _want_ to go to the dentist!" Christine screeched in Meg's ear. "I _hate_ the dentist!"

"Stop screaming at me!" Meg yelled back. She honked the horn and cursed loudly. "Did you see that? I almost swiped that car back there because of you screaming at me!"

"Meg," Christine wailed, "the dentist is going to pull all my teeth out. He'll give me braces. He'll steal Baby."

"What?" Meg took a deep breath and clenched her teeth. "Trust me Christine, you're going to love this dentist. I promise. Look, we're here. Oh my, who could that be?" She unbuckled her seatbelt in irritation as Gabrielle approached them wearing a coral sundress and a broad smile. "We look ready to jet off to Cannes, don't we? Hello Gabrielle."

"Hello Meg," Gabrielle smiled mischievously, "Christine, surprise! What- why are you crying?" She turned to Meg in concern and wrapped her arms around Christine's shoulders. "Why is she crying?"

"Because- well, I had to keep it a secret!" Meg replied defensively. "I had to come up with something!"

"Meg told me I was g-g-going to the d-d-dentist!" Christine blubbered. "I don't w-want to go to the dentist, I'm s-scared of the d-dentist, he's going to give me b-b-braces and steal Baby away-"

Gabrielle looked taken aback. "What? Christine, don't cry, there's nothing to be scared of. You're not really going to the dentist, we're having a surprise party for you! Surprise!" She pulled a party horn out of her purse and blew it cheerfully as she pointed to the quaint white cottage in front of them.

Christine's lip wobbled as she glanced around uncertainly. Another woman eagerly approached Christine and blew another party horn. "Hey Christine, Gabrielle invited me along! I'm Margaret, from church, remember?"

"I- I-" Christine clasped and unclasped her hands; she jumped again when Meg's phone went off behind them.

"Come on, Christine," Gabrielle said gently, leading Christine up the pebbled walkway. "Let's go inside. Meg will meet us." Christine followed, still throwing nervous looks at the peaceful fountain and shrubs lining the front of the spa.

"Sauna's running late, she'll be here in ten minutes," Meg reported breathlessly when she met them inside. They were already inside the locker room, and Christine had relaxed considerably- she was methodically opening and closing each and every unlocked locker in wonder. Gabrielle and Margaret were undressing and chatting.

"Meg, we're in a spa!" Christine exclaimed gleefully when she heard her enter. "We're going to get massages, isn't that exciting? Do you know what a massage is?"

Meg smiled and nodded. "Christine, you've got to strip down, honey," Margaret called as she slipped into one of the fluffy terry cloth robes provided. "Hurry up, so we can all sit in the sauna for a little while."

"Strip down?" Christine asked Meg. "I have to get naked for my massage?"

"_And_ you can ask for a male masseuse," Meg winked.

Christine squealed and clapped her hands in delight.

"We're all naked," Christine giggled once they were all sitting in the sauna. "I'm the fattest." She drummed her fingers on her belly.

"You're just pregnant," Gabrielle corrected her. "Christine is due at the end of July," she told Margaret.

"That's only about six weeks away," Sauna remarked after she settled on the bench next to Meg. "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't leave work."

"So what's your plan, Christine?" Margaret asked her.

"I'm giving up Baby for adoption," Christine replied, looking down at her feet. "So it will go with a nice Catholic family. With a backyard. Professor said it's the best thing for Baby."

"Professor!" Margaret repeated. She raised an eyebrow and turned to Gabrielle. "Professor?"

Gabrielle shook her head in disgust. "Don't even get me started. Fifty years old, tenured professor, married, kids older than Christine, and he got her pregnant before the first semester was even over. He's a real piece of work."

"He's not all that bad," Meg suddenly snapped. "He's done a lot of good for Christine."

Margaret raised her eyebrows even wider. "Meg, come on, Christine's not even eighteen, that's statutory rape, isn't it? That's terrible-"

"I'm right here!" Christine snipped. Everyone turned to look at her in shock. "You shouldn't just talk about me like I can't hear you, I'm not a baby!"

"We know you're not, Christine," Sauna said soothingly. "Nobody meant anything bad. But she's right- Christine's about to have her own baby, she can make her own decisions. What do you think about it, Christine?"

"I love Professor Destler," Christine murmured, "but he won't marry me and he doesn't want Baby."

"Then _who _is that rock from?" Margaret squeaked as she caught sight of Christine's engagement ring. Meg and Gabrielle rolled their eyes. Even Christine sighed.

"It's from Raoul. We're getting married," she answered dully.

"Don't sound so excited," Sauna snickered.

"I'm not," Christine sighed dramatically, missing the sarcasm. The four women exchanged uncomfortable looks and Meg awkwardly began to wrap her towel around herself. "So-"

"Ladies, we're ready for you!" called a perky voice from the hall. With a collective sigh of relief, they all trudged outside for their massage.

* * *

"Daddy!" Zack exclaimed when he saw Erik. He wriggled impatiently while Becky unbuckled him and tore off in his father's direction when he was free. "Daddy, Mommy bought me a toy and I took it but then I dropped it but then I picked it up but then it fell down and- look!" He pushed a stuffed giraffe in Erik's hands breathlessly. "It's a giraffe, Mommy bought it for me."

Erik raised his eyebrows and held the giraffe at arm's length while he digested his son's story. "Mommy bought you a giraffe? How lovely, Zack. Does he have a name?"

Zack snatched him back and squished his head thoughtfully. "His name is Lovely," he replied with a shy smile. "He's a Lovely Giraffe. He's Lovely."

"I missed you," Erik smiled, wrapping him up in a hug and then balancing him and Lovely on his hip. He kissed his forehead and approached Becky with his free hand outstretched. "I've missed you too, Rebecca."

"How charming," Becky said dryly as she took the white potted orchid. But she was blushing. "Well, like I said, I'm just going to get my nails done- I shouldn't be gone long. He has snacks and some books and toys in his backpack; _don't_ let him take a nap, whatever you do, but he's _not_ allowed to have soda-"

"Becky," Erik smiled and stepped closer. Zack wriggled and Erik set him down with Lovely on the grass. "He's my son too. Don't worry, take your time. We'll be fine." He reached out and tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, and her blush deepened, but then she shook her head and straightened.

"Is she here?" she asked suddenly, jerking her head in the direction of his apartment. "I don't want anything going on with my son around-"

"Becky, Raoul proposed to Christine," Erik replied in a low voice, "he's thinks- he thinks the baby is his."

"Right, well-" Becky cleared her throat and put on her sunglasses. Erik looked up; it was overcast. "In that case, I'll be back in a couple of hours. Zack, be good for Daddy, come here and give me a kiss." After Zack gave her ear a non-committal smooch (he was busy trying to braid Lovely's forelock), Erik grabbed her left hand.

"You're still wearing it," he noticed, running his thumb over her wedding ring. "May I give you a kiss as well?" Before she could answer, he leaned down and was able to brush her cheek before she snatched her hand away and walked back to the car.

"Bye, Zack!" she called, "I love you!" Once safely locked inside the car, she started the ignition and turned the radio up loudly with trembling fingers. Erik waved goodbye for a moment, then turned to pick up Zack and bring him inside. She gunned it to the main road.

Her phone rang and she grabbed it and answered it with bated breath. "Hello? Oh, Sarah, it's you. Yes, I'm on my way, I'll be there in ten minutes." She hung up and anxiously checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. She didn't know why she let herself get bothered by Erik this time; maybe it was seeing him with Zack. She had read an article that said men appeared up to 78% more attractive when holding their children. That had to be it.

* * *

"Hey Zack, what are you doing?" Erik asked, crouching down to check on his son. He had been deathly silent for the past fifteen minutes, and Erik was beginning to get suspicious. Zack ignored him, and stayed bent intently over Lovely the giraffe. Erik craned his neck and saw him fiddling with the line of fuzzy hair trailing down Lovely's back.

"Braiding Lovely's hair," Zack finally answered, absorbed in his work. "Want Lovely to look _fabulous_."

Erik was taken aback; he sat on the couch and scratched his head. Where had _that_ word come from? He glanced back at his son and squinted closely- was that- no, it couldn't be. Who would do something like that to his son? He looked closer and frowned; it was!

"Zack, who in the world painted your toenails? P-pink?" he spluttered, grabbing the boy's foot.

"Zack did."

"What do you mean, you painted your own toenails pink? Why?"

"Zack took Mommy's nail paint. Now, Zack's toes are _fabulous_." Zack explained matter-of-factly.

"Zack, stop using that word right now," Erik ordered as he snapped to his feet. He felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. When had this happened? Had he been absent in his son's life so long that- that this was happening? He grabbed the remote control with fumbling hands and put on a football game.

"Zack, I want you to watch this and stop braiding Lovely's hair," Erik instructed. "I'm calling Mommy."

Becky answered on the third ring. On the phone, she sounded much more sure of herself, and he was aware that he sounded much _less_ sure of himself. He clenched his teeth. "What is it, Erik?" Becky snapped. "I'm parking now, I have to go in."

"Becky, since when has Zack- well, been interested in-"

"Painting his toes and braiding hair?" Becky finished for him. "About two months now. But he is _not_ allowed to watch the Miss America pageants on YouTube, I don't think those women are a good example for him. They give ridiculous answers to all the questions. Is that all?"

"No, that's not all!" Erik fumed. "This isn't ok! He's a little boy, he should be crashing toy cars and wanting to destroy things- even Alex didn't paint her nails until she was ten. Becky, I don't want my son to turn out- " he fumbled helplessly for the word; behind him, Zack was slipping his feet into a pair of Christine's pink ballet flats. "_Fabulous," _he whispered to himself.

"Gay?" Becky snapped. "So what if he does? He's your son. Don't you dare make him feel bad about his toes, Erik. Zack has to do what Zack feels comfortable doing. On top of everything else, now you're a homophobe. Great."

"No I'm not, I live in Connecticut, Becky, how could I be a homophobe? I'm a registered Democrat. It's just that he's our son-"

"You can't have it both ways! Erik, Zack is only three. Let him be. Maybe he'll grow out of this, maybe he won't. You can't change it. I'm going now, good-bye." She hung up and left Erik facing the garishly pink painted pout of his three year old. He sighed; apparently, Christine had left a make-up bag behind.

* * *

"Hi, Becky!" Sarah simpered as Becky hastily took a seat in the chair next to her. Jennifer next to her looked up from her magazine and smiled sweetly.

"Hey girls," Becky answered breathlessly as she settled in. "Sorry I'm late, I had to drop off Zack on the way. I'd like this color, please," she whispered to the nail technician. "It's such a treat to have some time at the salon, I feel like I haven't done it in ages!"

"Well, we haven't seen _you_ in ages," Jennifer replied primly. "You didn't even come to the department party last week, and Jason told me he hasn't seen Erik in weeks! What's going on with you two? Where are you hiding?"

"Ah, well, Erik is taking a small, um, sabbatical," Becky coughed, "that's why he hasn't been teaching."

"Oh no, is he alright?" Sarah asked in concern. "Is he sick?"

"N-no, he's not sick, he's just- well, he's taking a break, that's all," Becky replied lamely. She turned her head to cough again, but it was too late to hide the flush creeping over her face. Sarah and Jennifer nodded with identical expressions- mouths frozen in O's of surprise and eyebrows raised in understanding. They all turned back to their magazines for an awkward pause and Becky bit her lip and cursed her poker face. Shouldn't she have come up with a good story by now?

"Was it a grad student, honey?" Sarah finally asked in an understanding whisper. "Don't worry, Becky, it really happens all the time. I mean, it's never happened to _me_, but- well, Jennifer, you should know-"

"Thank God, it's never happened to me either," Jennifer chuckled hastily, shooting Sarah a nasty look, "but I do know lots of wives who've gone through it. But Erik is tenured, why in the world did they suspend him?"

"She got pregnant." Becky replied through clenched teeth. "The Dean found out about it. Dave Farlow turned him in."

"Dave!" they chirped at the same time. "Melanie's husband? That Dave? But why? You know, I've even heard stories about _him_, apparently he seems to have a thing for freshmen, the youngest ones-" they turned to Becky expectantly for an explanation.

She shrugged tightly. "I don't know," she said simply.

"But how are _you_ taking this, honey?" Sarah cooed sympathetically. "It's always hardest for the wives. Have you and Erik been to marriage counseling yet?"

"Well, no, I-" she looked down and took a deep breath. "I actually served him with separation papers. He hasn't signed them, of course, but-"

"Separation papers!" Jennifer repeated in alarm. "Why? Do you want a divorce?"

"Well…" Becky trailed off meaningfully. "He got his student _pregnant_, Jennifer. What am I supposed to do?"

"Yes, but you two have been married for over twenty-five years!" Jennifer cried. "If you get divorced- well, what are you going to do? Start all over again?"

"Well…" Becky trailed off again. She briefly thought of Phil in Downward Dog.

"Aren't you even going to _try_?" Jennifer demanded.

"Try! I've been trying for almost thirty years!" The nail technician momentarily lost control of her left foot. "I raised his children, cleaned his house, cooked his dinners, _and_ might I add- had a successful career as an entrepreneur at the same time-"

"Entrepreneur?" Jennifer mumbled under her breath.

"She owns her own bakery, Jen," Sarah whispered back.

"-and this is how he repays me? By having an affair with his student? By disrespecting me and the hard work I've put into maintaining his lifestyle for all these years? Why? Because he's a little bored? Because he's disappointed with his middle class existence? Who isn't?" she fumed. "And what am I supposed to do, hold his hand through his pathetic mid-life crisis while he tries to 'find himself' and decide if this life I have killed myself for is what he really wants?" She slammed her fist on the armrest of the pedicure chair. "No! I refuse! It's time for Becky's life now!"

Sarah and Jennifer gaped at her. Jennifer's People magazine slid to the floor with a sharp slap.

"Amen, honey," the nail technician nodded in approval. The surrounding techs nodded in unison. "Mmmhmmm," they echoed.

"But… what about Zack?" Sarah asked tentatively after a moment.

"What about him?" Becky asked uncertainly.

"Well… do you want him to grow up- you know- without a father?" she asked delicately.

"Well, he wouldn't be without a father," Becky replied, "of course, Erik would still be a part of his life, I'm sure we would split custody halfway, take him every other week or something-"

"You want poor Zack to be shuttled back and forth between two houses?" Jennifer pressed with a pained look on her face. "To have to tell kids at school his parents aren't together? To have to make two art projects for every holiday, one for each house?"

"And what about Alex?" Sarah chimed in. "What will she say?"

Becky shrugged dubiously. "I-I don't know, what would she say? She's got her own life now-"

"Didn't you say she's getting married this summer Becky?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes-"

"But how will she feel when her parents get divorced after nearly _thirty_ years of marriage? You know kids base their own relationships on their parents', and kids from divorced homes are more likely to get divorced themselves."

"But-"

"And the house? Will you sell it? You can't live in that big house alone-"

"Where would _you_ live?"

"I guess-"

"What if he doesn't sign the papers? Lawyers are terribly expensive-"

"He would pay you _child support_- you know, like in that song by Kanye West- ugh-"

"I suppose you could join a single mother's group… but I don't think there are many around here, now that I think of it-"

Their voices mixed together and continued to form an endless barrage of questions. Becky blinked as she tried to take it all in. What _about_ Zack? She never did think about how divorcing Erik would affect him- or Alex, for that matter. What _would_ they do with the house? If she admitted it to herself, it would break her heart to sell it. It was the first adult purchase they had made as newlyweds after Erik was hired at the university. They made Alex there. They made Zack there.

"I guess I never really thought of all that," Becky finally said faintly. "It does seem like a waste, throwing all those years together away…"

"Yes," Sarah crooned, "and Erik is a good guy, Becky. Everybody slips up once in a while, honey. He loves you. Give him a chance, try marriage counseling together."

"I can't even imagine being a divorcée in my forties," Jennifer shuddered. Sarah and Becky both glared at her. "What? It's true, we're not exactly the Real Housewives of Connecticut."

"It's a lot to think about," Sarah comforted her. She patted her knee gently. "Give it some thought."

"Um, ladies?" the tech interrupted them. "Ready for hands?"

* * *

"Ooh, Christine, do this one, it's adorable-"

"Gross, Christine, it's salmon pink, why don't you try this one-"

"Meg, she's not Gothic, could you get any darker?" Gabrielle sniffed, waving away the metallic purple Meg was pushing in Christine's direction. She held out her own choice, a shimmery light pink and smiled. "It's so sweet, and pink toes go with everything-"

"No, you guys," Christine huffed, pushing them both away, "I want to pick by myself. I'd like this one, and this one, and this one, and this one, and this one, please," she asked the nail technician happily, handing her five different colors. "One for each toe!"

Meg and Gabrielle actually exchanged looks of distaste. "Suit yourself."

Christine settled into the chair and held her belly contentedly, tracing designs over it. Once everyone else was settled and seated, she cleared her throat expectantly. "I've decided to start working," she announced matter-of-factly.

Meg snorted. Gabrielle raised an eyebrow. Sauna rubbed her temples, and Margaret looked up in interest. "Why's that?"

"Because I'm a grown up and I want to make money," she replied defensively. "I can take care of myself, you know."

"My sister owns a flower shop right by the university," Margaret offered, "she's been wanting to hire some help for a while. I can talk to her if you want- it's only really sweeping floors and working at the cash register, but she pays above minimum wage."

Christine beamed in excitement. A flower shop! How thrilling. "Yes!" she squealed, "will you please talk to her? I want to have a job. I'll be an adult soon, in June. I want to work."

"Christine, you can't work," Meg frowned, "you've never worked in your life."

"I can too, Meg! Be quiet, nobody asked you."

"Maybe Meg is right though, Christine," Gabrielle said gently, "especially with the stress of finals, and you know-" she motioned to the giant belly. "Maybe it's not such a good idea to work. Besides, Professor Destler supports you, your tuition is paid, you don't really have to work. And you're getting married."

"But I _want_ to," Christine insisted, "because I don't _need_ them, I can take care of myself-"

"It's just a flower shop, you two," Sauna interjected. "I think she can handle it."

"Yes!" Christine nodded frantically. "I want to work."

"I'll call my sister then," Margaret smiled. "You'll like her, you'll have fun."

"Excuse me, dear," a sickly sweet voice interrupted them. A woman in her mid-forties was smiling down at them tightly. Her light brown hair was pulled into a flawless ponytail and her leather loafers were spotless. They all stared. "Are you done with that magazine? Could I switch with you?"

Christine nodded wordlessly and handed it to her, exposing her round tummy, covered by a bright polka dotted dress. The woman gasped under her breath and took the magazine silently. She looked Christine over again, and hmphed with her eyebrows raised. "Thanks, dear," she simpered, taking the magazine and walking back to the manicure station. She sat next to two other women and leaned in conspiratorially.

Christine looked down at her tummy and frowned. She covered herself with her sweater and sat quietly, even when the technician started rubbing her feet (it normally tickled). She hadn't really felt embarrassed of Baby before, and now she did. It wasn't a nice feeling.

Jennifer tsked as she sat down with the new magazine. The three of them were drying now, turning the pages of their magazines awkwardly with wet fingernails. All three wore the same shade of salmon pink. "Girl over there is about to pop," she sniffed derisively, "Her belly is bigger than the rest of her combined. Can't be older than eighteen."

Sarah shook her head in disgust. "I personally blame all these new shows on TV, all they do is glamorize bad behavior. If girls see teenagers getting pregnant on TV, they're going to do it in real life. It's a shame."

"It's not the TV's fault if a young girl gets pregnant," Becky sighed, "Who is responsible for her? She should have adults looking out for her, not taking advantage."

"Mmm, Becky's right," Jennifer snipped, "the fathers are always older, it's almost always statutory. Disgraceful." She looked up briefly and gasped. "Look, there she is, she's coming over here now. Goodness, she looks young, she's probably not even a senior in high school."

Becky felt a sinking sensation in her stomach even before she heard the tinkling laughter she recognized so well. She closed her eyes and willed the sweet, high pitched voice to go away, to disappear and leave Becky with some semblance of dignity. But it didn't, it just came closer.

"Christine can't stay sad for too long," a voice teased behind them, "It's physically impossible."

"How far along are you?" Sarah cooed, turning around to face Christine and her group. "You look like you're ready to burst!"

Christine smiled uncertainly and shifted her weight from foot to foot. "Seven and a half months," she replied shyly.

"Do you know what it is yet?" Sarah asked. Becky stayed facing forward, keeping her back to them all. She held her breath and prayed there wouldn't be a confrontation.

Christine shook her head. "Surprise," she answered.

"How old are you?" Jennifer asked in a would be friendly voice. "You look so young!" She chuckled.

"Seventeen," Christine murmured.

"Sit down, Christine, here," Meg held out the chair for her and gave Sarah and Jennifer haughty glares. Christine eased into the chair thankfully and handed her chosen color to the nail tech. "Pink sparkles," she smiled.

"Becky, you could at least look at her!" Sarah hissed with a scandalized giggle, turning back to drying her nails. Becky made a noncommittal noise and continued reading her magazine, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had broken out across her forehead. If she didn't move, maybe things would be fine. She tried to stay as still as possible. Suddenly, the manager of the salon walked in, waving individual bills.

"Ms Strasser?" she called. Sarah waved her hand and the manager placed her bill next to her purse. "Ms Wharton?" Jennifer raised her hand as well, and the manager left her bill.

No, no, no, no, no, Becky thought desperately.

"Ms. Destler?"

Becky clenched her eyes shut as she heard a collective gasp behind her. She finally turned around to face two comically wide blue eyes staring at her as though she were a ghost. "I'm Mrs. Destler," she called in defeat.

"Mrs. Becky," Christine breathed in terror. She clutched her belly and looked like she was ready to bolt. Like she was scared Becky would try to steal the baby. Her lower lip began to tremble.

"Hello, Christine," Becky sighed. On either side of her, Sarah and Jennifer were hastily gathering their belongings.

"My nails are dry!" Sarah squeaked.

"So are mine, got to run, Becky, see you!" Jennifer echoed, following Sarah out.

Becky was left with Christine and her posse. She stood up and was about to take a step towards the exit, when Christine yelped loudly. She looked down at her in alarm to see the younger girl still clutching her belly, but this time it looked like she was in pain. She bit her lip; sure, she was angry, but she was still a mom. "Christine, are you ok?"

Christine looked up at her with the same look of terror as before and cried, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't be angry at me! Please don't take my baby away-" she stopped with another yelp and cried out in pain.

"What's the matter?" Meg demanded. She turned to Becky angrily. "What did you do to her?"

"_I_ didn't do anything to her!" Becky snapped. She looked down and saw Christine breathing heavily. "What's the matter, Christine? Does it hurt?"

"I'm sorry," Christine wept, covering her face, "I'm sorry I was so bad. I-" she cried out and Becky crouched down to her level.

"What is it?" she asked sharply.

"It happened before-" Christine stammered through tears, "but now it hurts, my tummy- ow!"

"Megan, she has to go to the hospital, she might be going into pre-term labor," Becky instructed. "She has to go _now_."

"Pre-term labor?" Meg asked in panic. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh my God!" Gabrielle shrieked, knocking over a row of nail polishes and pointing at Christine's legs. "Christine, you're bleeding!"

"She has to go to the hospital!" Becky ordered again, looking around her. All she saw was scared faces frozen on Christine's belly. Christine was still crying and begging Becky not to steal her baby. "I'm taking her, then, Christine, stand up, come on." She guided Christine gingerly to the exit and tried to ignore the little trickle of blood on her leg. She managed to get Christine into the car and strapped in, then jumped in herself.

"Erik!" she snapped when they were on the road. Christine was moaning next to her. "I need you to meet me at the hospital right now, bring Zack with you."

"What? What's the matter?" Erik demanded, cradling the phone on his shoulder while mixing the pancake batter. "Are you alright?"

"It's not me, it's Christine," Becky groaned.

"Oh, Becky, what did you do?" Erik cried.

"I didn't do anything, you idiot! She's bleeding and having contractions, and Meg was useless, you'd think none of her friends had ever met a pregnant woman before. Meet me there! Hurry!" She snapped the phone shut and turned to Christine uneasily. "Christine, are you still in pain?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Becky," Christine wept, "I'm sorry I made a Baby with Professor."

"Christine, I-" a lump formed in Becky's throat and she blinked. "I don't blame you for all that's happened. I blame Erik- he was- he was your professor, and he should have known better. It doesn't mean that it's right, what happened-" she frowned sternly and kept her eyes focused on the road ahead. "But you're only seventeen, honey. As much as I hate to say it, it's not your fault. I'm not angry at you."

They arrived and Christine was able to waddle inside where she was quickly swept away by a doctor and nurse. Becky collapsed into a vinyl waiting room chair. "I live in a Salvador Dali painting," she muttered.

"Becky?" Erik's voice came at her, rushed and frantic, followed by a shout of joy. "Mommy!"

"Hey Zacky!" Becky said wearily, clearing her lap and bundling Zack into it. "How's my best boy?"

"Fabulous," Zack gushed.

Becky chuckled dryly. "Good." She looked up at Erik and gestured next to her. "Sit. The doctors are checking her, they'll come out when they're done."

He sat down heavily and pressed his temples. "Is she alright?" he worried. "What happened?"

"She started having painful contractions and bleeding," Becky replied.

"Bleeding?" Erik cried. "What do you mean, bleeding?"

"It wasn't much," Becky reassured him, "it was really just a little bit. I'm sure she'll be fine, Erik. Take a deep breath and relax before you can go and see her, or else you'll rile her up too."

"Wait, how did you even- why are you here?" Erik suddenly asked.

"Same salon," she replied dryly. "She was with a group of friends, I was with Sarah and Jennifer. Get ready for the gossip, by the way. They saw everything."

"I'm sorry, Becky," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to ruin your reputation too."

"I know you didn't, Erik," she said wearily, "this is what happens when we don't think. Everyone gets in the crosshairs."

"Excuse me, are you Christine Daae's parents?" a doctor approached them carefully.

Despite themselves, they each burst into laughter. "We might as well be," Becky moaned. "What a weird situation."

"Well, um, she's alright and you can see her now," the doctor said uncertainly. "She's just this way."

Christine was a small elven face hidden by a perfectly round bump in the bed. When she looked up and saw Erik and Becky approaching her with Zack following behind, she started to cry in fright. She shook her head and held her arms over her tummy. "Don't take Baby," she begged.

"Nobody's taking anyone," Erik assured her. "How are you feeling, Christine?"

She shrugged uncertainly. The doctor hovered uncertainly before clearing his throat. "I already told Christine that it looks like she started to go into pre-term labor, but we gave her some drugs and we were able to stop it. She should be fine, but she'll have to be on bed-rest for the rest of the time." He nodded and left, leaving the odd quartet to themselves.

"Thank you for bringing me to the hospital, Mrs. Becky," Christine whispered.

"It's alright, Christine," Becky whispered back. "Erik, I'm going to take Zack home. Take care of yourself, Christine." She sighed and picked up Zack, who waved happily at his old friend. "Bye Christine!"

"Bye bye Zack," Christine said sadly. They left, and Erik reached over and gently kissed her forehead. "Will you stay with me?" she asked tremulously, with a wobbly lower lip.

"Of course," he murmured, "try to sleep a little, before you can go home. Sleep, and I'll be right here, my darling."

"I love you, Professor."

"Yes, I love you too.


End file.
